


Alternate Reality Bites

by whichclothes



Series: Biteverse [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-16
Updated: 2010-05-16
Packaged: 2017-10-09 12:12:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/87192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichclothes/pseuds/whichclothes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p> Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[alternate reality bites](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/alternate%20reality%20bites), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_ **Alternate Reality Bites (1/8)** _

**Title:** Alternate Reality Bites    
**Chapter:** 1 of 8   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** NC-17   
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:** Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.   
**A/N**: This fic is complete and I'll be posting it over the next 3 days. It takes place in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1), but can be read on its own right even if you haven't read the rest of the 'verse. For [](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/profile)[**spring_with_xan**](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/) .  
**Credits**: I'm grateful to [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/)  for the wonderful banner and to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for the fantastic beta work!

 

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000cr390/)  
---  
  
**Alternate Reality Bites**

**One**

 

It was a total rip-off. At times like this, you were supposed to see your life flashing before your eyes, but all Xander saw was the past day. And it hadn’t even been an interesting one.

He got to work hungover and eight minutes late, and his dick of a boss—who liked to hover around the time clock—warned him that if he was late once more he was fired. Then Xander had spent the next bunch of hours trying to skulk as inconspicuously as possible in the most obscure corners of the store. When he heard a customer coming his way, he’d scurry into the next aisle. Inevitably, however, he’d be caught, and then some middle-aged guy with a mullet and three whiny kids would need help finding a toggle switch, WD-40, an air compressor, and something to kill the snails that were munching on his vegetables. By the time Xander was finished with him, he’d have a whole line of people waiting, looking for strange items, wanting advice on recaulking sinks or repairing fences, needing him to cut lengths of wood.

When it was finally time to hang up his orange vest, his feet ached and his temper was lost. He trudged across the parking lot to El Pollo Loco and ate an Ultimate Burrito. Then he trudged back again—narrowly avoiding getting flattened by a lady in a minivan who was talking on her cell and eating a Big Mac as she flew across the lot—and found his Cavalier. Someone had ripped off the radio months ago, which wasn’t a mean feat in auto burglary because the passenger side window was actually duct-taped plastic sheeting. So Xander sang instead, old country tunes of the girlfriend-cheated-on-me-and-stole-my-pickup-truck variety.

He’d intended to drive to his shitty apartment and maybe put his feet up in front of an SG-1 marathon. But he got stopped at a red light in front of JT’s and realized it was dollar beer night.

He spent a fair number of dollars.

He got back in his car and drove toward home. It was only a couple miles. He was being careful. And then the road zigged and he zagged, or maybe it was the other way around. He pulled hard on the steering wheel and overcorrected, and then he was skidding sideways and an impressive-looking light pole was heading his way, and all he could do was think about how shitty his life was.

 

***

 

Xander woke up with a corpse half-draped over him. He shifted a little under the weight and the corpse clutched at him and mumbled a sleepy complaint. Xander patted the corpse’s firm and very shapely ass. “Lemme up. Gotta piss.” Grumbling, the corpse shifted over enough that Xander could get up.

After Xander emptied his bladder, he washed his hands and headed back into the bedroom of his suite at the Hyperion. But now Spike was reclining on his side, looking up at Xander expectantly. “’S early, pet. Come back to bed.”

Xander glanced at the bedside clock. One p.m. Well, that was early for this household, which kept vampire hours. But that dream had unsettled him, and he didn’t feel sleepy. “I’m gonna get up. I’m hungry.”

Spike looked at him incredulously. “You ate half a bloody cow less than eight hours ago. You can’t possibly be hungry again.”

“One, it was just a steak. A really big steak, but still just a steak.” He remembered the taste of the raw meat, the feel of the flesh ripping under his teeth, and he licked his lips. “And two, it’s a full moon. I get…peckish.”

Spike smiled lewdly at him. “Come over here and I’ll give you some lovely meat to put in your mouth, boy.”

“I thought you were tired.”

“I have my priorities.”

Xander spent a moment thinking about his options. He really was kind of hungry, and he was pretty sure there was some leftover pizza in the fridge. But eventually the gorgeous vampire with the already-hardening cock won out, and Xander leapt back onto the mattress.

Xander wasn’t sure what was responsible for his libido, which had exceeded the previous records set during his teenaged years. Maybe it was part of the werewolf package. He did always feel extra frisky when it was his time of the month. Or maybe it was because he got to spend his days and nights with the world’s sexiest vampire, a vampire who could make an erotic show out of washing dishes. Maybe it was the dangerous life they led. Whenever they returned mostly in one piece from the latest almost-getting-chomped-by-a-demon episode, their continuing existence on the planet was cause for celebration. Maybe there was something in the air—Angel and Kyna seemed to spend a lot of time getting groiny, too, although in Angel’s case he was probably making up for a century of celibacy. Xander guessed the cause of his increased sex drive wasn’t really important, because really, what on earth was there to complain about in having mind-blowing sex once or twice or three times every day?

There was certainly no complaining now, as Xander and Spike lay face to thigh on the bed, each of them stroking the other’s cock. Xander buried his nose in his alpha’s soft pubic hair, drawing the unique scent of him deeply into his lungs as if that might make Spike more a part of Xander than he was already. Xander licked along the crease where Spike’s upper leg joined his torso, and when Spike responded by bending that knee, further exposing himself, Xander licked again and then nibbled slightly on the skin of Spike’s inner thigh. Spike responded by taking one of Xander’s balls into his mouth and sucking gently on it.

Xander moistened his index finger with the shining liquid that was beading on Spike’s cock. He placed the finger atop the soft, wrinkled flesh of Spike’s sphincter and traced around the edge of it, wondering slightly at how something so small could give them both so much pleasure. But Xander didn’t really have the cognitive ability to ponder things too deeply at the moment, not when Spike was wiggling his ass in an appreciative manner and, almost simultaneously, swallowing Xander’s cock to the root.

“Oh god,” Xander groaned into the hollow of Spike’s hip. Spike wiggled again. So Xander once more used Spike’s precome to dampen his fingertip and then he inserted that finger into Spike’s tight, clenching hole. At the same time—because, hey! he could multitask—he took the head of Spike’s cock in his mouth and allowed his teeth to press very gently against the sensitive bit just between the retracted foreskin and the crown. Spike sucked on Xander and moved his hands around so each palm was cupping one of Xander’s ass-cheeks, kneading the muscles, drawing him impossibly deeper down Spike’s throat.

Xander wasn’t going to last long like this, not when he was at the mercy of Spike’s talented throat. So he pushed his finger a bit further inside and found the little nub of tissue. Spike’s hips jerked, the muscles of his thighs quivered, and he made a choked howling sound as he spilled himself into Xander’s mouth. A moment later, bright lights sparkled behind Xander’s closed eyelid and he, too, was climaxing.

The two of them spent several minutes floating on their happy post-orgasmic clouds, trying to catch their breaths and, in Xander’s case, get his heart rate down into its more normal range. Eventually, Xander kissed the shaft of Spike’s flaccid cock. He liked Spike’s cock when it was soft and sweet like that, but of course if he started playing with it, it never stayed that way for long. He rolled off the bed and stretched. “I’m gonna go slap some paint in 219,” he announced.

Spike groaned. “Come back to bed, love. The painting can wait.”

“Yeah, but I want to finish it while there’s still daylight. Get your beauty sleep. I’ll come get you when I’m finished and maybe we can head up to the park tonight.”

“Fancy a hunt, pet?”

“Maybe. We haven’t sunk our teeth into anything good for a while. Except each other.”

Spike yawned. “Fine. Wake me when you’re ready.”

“Will do, Mr. Unlife of Leisure.”

Spike pulled the blankets over himself and rolled onto his belly. Xander couldn’t resist the urge to kiss him, just once, right at the crook of his neck. Then Xander threw on his most paint-friendly clothing—including his orange Spongebob shirt, which Spike had “accidentally” used to wipe up some wayward caulk—and he left the suite, shutting the door gently behind him.

He walked down the steps quietly. The elevators hadn’t worked right since Wolfram &amp; Hart had tried to blow up the hotel, and repairing them properly was a little beyond Xander’s skill-set. They’d been talking about hiring someone, but there was really no hurry. Two vampires, a Slayer, and a werewolf could manage just fine with stairs.

Xander had been converting several of the smallish rooms on the second floor into larger suites. It kept him busy, he enjoyed it, and it made sense, because they seemed to have a fairly constant stream of visitors. Willow and Gemma had stayed for over a week the previous month. They’d been in the States to pick up some spell ingredients that were hard to find in England, but also because Gemma had never been to the U.S. and Willow wanted to play tour guide. Xander had liked Gem very much, and Spike had warmed up to her quickly as well. She had a clever, slightly naughty sense of humor and she knew the lyrics to everything The Clash had ever sung. She and Will looked really happy together. Not long after the witches left, Kyna’s parents arrived. They knew she was a Slayer and didn’t seem to mind that, but they were more than ready to disapprove of her vampire boyfriend. Spike had been endlessly amused by the major case of nerves Angel was suffering when they arrived. But Angel somehow managed to pull out his rusty brogue and his antique Old Country manners, and they’d been won over, especially when he started telling them tales of life in Galway, circa 1750. They’d figured out that Angel was some sort of distant cousin on Kyna’s mother’s side, and that sealed the deal.

Room 219 was just as he’d left it: walls freshly drywalled and taped and sanded, all ready for the pale green paint. It wasn’t his color choice, but rather Kyna’s. They each got to decorate a suite. Kyna’s was going to be sort of Laura Ashley-esque. Ugh, but that’s what the lady wanted. Angel was going for a spare, 1950s modern vibe. Spike’s choices were slightly goth, with a lot of black and red, but not too overdone. Xander was thinking he’d decorate his suite in Mission style, which would give him the chance to try his hand at furniture making.

As Xander rolled the paint onto the walls, he thought about the dream he’d had that morning. It had been unsettlingly vivid. He could taste that Ultimate Burrito and the beer chasers, feel the wheels of the car sliding underneath him. What the hell was his subconscious trying to tell him? Not to drink and drive? He’d figured that one out when he was about six, holding on to the upholstery in their Pontiac for dear life as Tony careened around corners and swerved all over the road. Maybe that was it—the dream was some sort of Oedipal thing. But Xander didn’t think he had unresolved conflicts concerning his parents. He hardly ever thought of them at all, and when he did, he was emotionally blank. He’d long since figured out who his _real_ family was.

He had the room almost three-quarters done when he heard Spike approach. The vampire stood silently in the doorway, just watching. “Thought you were going to sleep in,” Xander said without turning around.

“Did for a time. Decided I didn’t want to miss the chance to watch you work.”

“You could pick up a brush and help out. The sun’s not shining into the room much now.”

Spike snorted. “’M a vampire, love, not a handyman.”

“Demons can’t do home improvement work?”

“No. It’s in our contract.”

Xander scratched at his cheek, probably leaving a stripe of green. “Man, us werewolves have gotta get us a better union.”

 

[Chapter Two](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/161013.html)

 


	2.  Aternate Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[alternate reality bites](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/alternate%20reality%20bites), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Alternate Reality Bites (2/8)**_  
**Title:** Aternate Reality Bites    
**Chapter:** 2 of 8   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** NC-17   
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:** Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.   
**A/N**: This fic is complete and I'll be posting it over the next 3 days. It takes place in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1), but can be read on its own right even if you haven't read the rest of the 'verse. For [](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/profile)[**spring_with_xan**](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/) .   
**Credits**: I'm grateful to [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/)  for the wonderful banner and to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for the fantastic beta work!

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Alternate%20Reality%20Bites&filter=all).

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000cr390/)  
---  
  
**Two**

 

He woke up in the hospital. The waking up part was a nice surprise, even if the hospital part, not so much.

“You’re a very fortunate man, Mr. Harris.”

He struggled to focus on the woman standing at his bedside. He didn’t feel very fortunate. Someone was playing _Seventy-Six Trombones_ inside his skull, his body felt like it belonged to a cartoon character who’d been flattened by a steamroller, and his vision wasn’t right. He reached up to brush away whatever was blocking his eye, but the woman caught at his hand.

“Don’t disturb the bandages.”

That sharpened his thoughts a little. “Bandages? What…?”

“You were in a car accident. A bad one. Do you remember?”

He concentrated for a moment. The screech of skidding tires, the sick crunch of metal. Yeah. He nodded slightly, but stopped when that made nausea roil in his stomach.

“You were pretty badly hurt. You’re at Memorial Hospital now, and I’m Dr. Abrams.”

He swallowed. His throat felt thick and his mouth tasted bitter, like medicine. “Badly hurt?”

“You fractured your skull, Mr. Harris. We’ve had you in a medically-induced coma for several days while the swelling in your brain subsided. Luckily, it doesn’t appear that your brain was permanently damaged.”

“So…I’ll be fine?”

Dr. Abrams shrugged. “Probably. Except for your eye, of course.”

His hand flew to his face again. Thick bandages covered his left eye. “My eye?”

“It was irreparably hurt. We had to remove it.”

He stared at her, waiting for her to smile and tell him this was all some sort of enormous joke. Ha ha—you’ve been punk’d. But she looked perfectly serious, her dark eyebrows drawn together in a slight frown. Her hair was escaping from a ponytail, as if she’d had an especially long and trying day.

“Mr. Harris, considering how hard you hit that light pole and the amount of alcohol you had in your blood, you’re very lucky not to be at the morgue right now. And you’re also lucky you didn’t hurt anyone else. The police have decided not to charge you, since you have a clean record and you’re injured. Like I said, you’re a fortunate man.”

Xander just closed his eyes—his _eye_—and felt ill.

The doctor’s voice softened just a little. “Is there someone we can contact for you? Family members, friends? The police haven’t been able to track anyone down, and—”

“No. There’s nobody.” He had some…buddies, he guessed. Guys from work who would sometimes have a drink with him after their shifts ended. But none of them were visiting-in-the-hospital kind of close. He thought of his apartment, where the rent would be due soon and the other bills must be piling up. His car, which was probably totaled. The hospital charges. His boss, who wouldn’t know why Xander hadn’t shown up for work. Fuck. “How soon until I can go home?”

“Two or three days, probably. It depends how you do, but you seem to heal quickly. For now, get some rest. I’ll check back on you later for a fuller assessment.”

“Yeah, okay.” Sleep sounded good. At least it meant he could put off dealing with this mess a little longer.

 

***

 

“Xander, stop it!”

Someone was on top of him, struggling with him, holding his wrists down beside his head. Xander fought a moment more before he awoke fully. When he stilled, he realized Spike was perched above him, his concerned face inches from Xander’s own. Xander’s face hurt.

“Wha—?” Xander said groggily.

“You were scratching at your missing eye, love. You’ll stop now?”

“Yeah, I uh….” He blinked his remaining eye a few times. “I was having a dream.”

Spike’s iron grip on his wrists loosened and Spike placed a soft kiss to the lid over the empty socket. “Back with that tosser Caleb again, were you? I’m sorry, pet. If I’d only been a bit faster—”

“Stop it, Spike. You know it’s not your fault. Anyway, I wasn’t dreaming about that.”

“Oh.” Spike stuck his tongue out and licked delicately at the scratches on Xander’s forehead and cheek, like a cat. Xander could feel Spike’s cock harden slightly against his own soft one as the vampire tasted his blood, and the tickly little licks made Xander’s skin shiver in a pleasant way. But he was too wigged out by the nightmare to get aroused, and a moment later Spike kissed him again and then rolled off him.

“Fancy sharing?” Spike said, poking his elbow into the mattress beside Xander’s shoulder and propping his head on his fist.

“Yeah. It was…it was sort of a sequel to a dream I had the other night.” Spike listened intently while Xander told him about both dreams.

“Sounds very unpleasant,” Spike said when Xander was done.

“Well, yeah. But I’ve had worse nightmares. About Sunnydale, Africa, about losing you.” He shuddered. “But these were just so _real_. While I was dreaming, I was that guy, that really loser version of me.”

“You’re not a loser, Xan.”

“I know.” Xander reached over and patted Spike’s butt. “A loser wouldn’t have you as a boyfriend.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Spike said smugly. “Or have helped to avert…how many apocalypses? And he wouldn’t have done such a lovely job fixing up this heap of a hotel, or collected the loyalty of good friends like the Scoobies.”

“You’re making my head swell.”

“I’d rather make something else swell,” Spike said and, when Xander winced at the way-too-obvious double entendre, Spike chuckled and slithered under the blankets.

 

***

 

Kyna cooked dinner—unfortunately. Xander ate politely and wondered whether the inability to cook was something common to all Slayers. Maybe demon slayage took up the parts of the brain that might otherwise know how to make spaghetti without scorching the sauce and undercooking the noodles. He envied Spike and Angel, who had good excuses to take only a few bites of the stuff and then wash the taste away with plenty of blood.

Xander was just choking down the last of the vile stuff when Angel said, “Giles called. When you two were…cleaning up.” The hotel had a huge supply of hot water, and Xander had built a shower enclosure in their suite plenty big enough for two. Consequently, shower time tended to be a pretty long process for them. Long and hard. He snickered and Angel glared.

Xander took a long swig of milk and leaned back in his chair. “Yeah? What’s G-Man want?”

“They’re coming here next Tuesday. Giles said he has some research to do. Something weird is up with the Council and he thinks maybe some of the books I took from Wolfram &amp; Hart might be useful. I was just going to ship him the books, but I guess Lindsey’s going to see a specialist here anyway.”

Xander nodded. The last he’d heard, Lindsey was getting around with braces and a walker, which was better than the doctors had expected. “Well, that’s cool. I’ll have Kyna’s suite done by then, if they want to stay there. Although maybe it’s a little girly for their tastes, I don’t know.”

“It is not girly,” Kyna said. “It’s classic. Elegant.”

Spike butted in. “More flowers than a bloody botanical garden, love. It’s girly.”

Xander did the washing up while Spike and Kyna argued over décor and Angel, wisely, kept his mouth shut. When the dishes were dried and put away, Xander rejoined the rest of the small group. They had these little meals together once or twice a week, alternating between Angel and Kyna’s kitchen and Xander and Spike’s. Spike often did the cooking when it was their turn; he was easily the best chef among them. It was strange, but when they sat together—bickering good-naturedly, talking about their days and their plans—it felt to Xander like a genuine family meal, the type he’d longed for but never really had when he was growing up.

Tonight, they spoke a little about Buffy’s second baby who, according to Willow, was due any day now. Xander thought he detected a little wistfulness from both Angel and Kyna. Then Angel said he’d heard of a new nest of vamps down the coast a little, over near San Clemente, and he thought maybe he and Kyna would check them out the following evening. “You two just want an excuse to snog on the beach,” Spike said.

Angel smiled. “A little mayhem, a little making out under the stars. Sounds like a good evening to me.”

It sounded like a good evening to Xander, too. And then he had a completely unrelated thought. “Hey, if Lindsey’s gonna visit, maybe we better get the elevators fixed. Unless one of you wants to carry him up and down the stairs, ‘cause I think he’s too heavy for Giles and me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Angel said, not looking very pleased. Despite Lindsey’s heroism, he was still not Angel’s favorite guy. Xander had pretty much forgiven the former lawyer for hexing Spike, though. And Giles seemed happy with him, which was unexpected but nice.

“What are you two planning for tonight?” Kyna asked. “We’re off to the Bergman festival at the Majestic. _The Virgin Spring_. Fancy joining us?”

Spike and Xander looked at one another and both tried to avoid making horrible faces. “Uh, no thanks,” Xander said. “But you kids have a good time.”

“We’re going to Billy’s,” Spike added.

That was news to Xander, but he didn’t complain. He liked Billy’s.

They decided to dress up a bit that night. Spike squeezed into a pair of black leather pants that made him look so goddamn edible Xander nearly peeled him right back out of them. He wore a blue silk sweater, tight enough to show off his muscles, and he put just a little kohl under his eyes. His nails were freshly painted black. Xander’s outfit was more subtle, just tight blue denims and a brick-red tee, but Spike seemed to like the look of him, judging by the sparkle in the vampire’s eyes.

Billy’s was crowded but the bouncer knew them and let them in. A few months ago Spike and Xander had taken on a small band of Htergo demons that had been harassing the customers and trying to shake down the management. The owner of the place—who wasn’t named Billy, but was a big woman with henna-dyed hair and an extensive collection of green and purple dresses—had been very grateful. So now Spike and Xander were waved right in whenever they visited, and drinks were on the house.

Xander and Spike squeezed their way through the busy floor and found a pair of open stools at the bar. They each ordered a drink—Jack for Spike, Full Sail for Xander—and then swiveled around to take in the scene. The clientele at Billy’s was mixed. Men, women, gay, straight, human, demon. The music was eclectic. It might be techno one night, heavy metal the next. Tonight the band was headed by a small man with a deep, rich voice, and they were playing a little honky-tonk, a little blues. The crowd never seemed to care what the music was. They drank and danced no matter what.

Xander drained his bottle and stood. “Wanna dance?” He knew what the answer would be, but he had to ask anyway.

“Go ahead, pet.”

Spike didn’t like the faster songs. But he did like to watch. So Xander made his way to the dance floor. As inevitably happened, demons approached and asked him to dance. Xander said yes to the ones who were least likely to provoke jealousy on Spike’s part—a creature with purply, iridescent skin and indeterminate gender; a lovely girl with dark skin who could have passed for human if not for the third eye on her forehead; a scaly guy with four horns on his head. They danced together, but really, the show was for Spike’s benefit, and Xander would glance periodically towards the bar to see his vampire sipping at his glass and watching, one thumb tucked into the waistband of his pants.

When the music shifted, becoming slow and languid, Spike stood, put down his drink, and prowled over to Xander in that predatory way he had. Xander was hard as a rock by the time Spike draped himself across Xander’s back and wrapped his arms tightly around Xander’s hips. “Fancy a go with me now, pet?” he purred into Xander’s ear.

“I fancy that very much,” Xander said and leaned back into his lover’s embrace. Xander relished the feel of Spike's strength behind him. Since that werewolf had bitten him, Xander had become a lot more confident in his own ability to protect himself. But still, he never felt safer than when Spike was holding him.

What Spike did with Xander was more like sex than dancing, but that was okay with Xander. He’d been a little embarrassed the first time, but it was easy to forget about inhibitions when Spike was grinding into him, or licking and nibbling at his neck, pressing their bodies so close together their molecules were practically bonded. People watched them, but with envy playing across their faces. Spike would whisper that that was because everyone wished they had a treat as lovely as Xander, but Xander was pretty sure at least some of them were dreaming of getting into Spike’s form-fitting pants.

Spike and Xander clung and swayed together until the band took a break, then they both headed for the bar. Xander was parched, and he quickly downed another beer, then began a third. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said, tapping Spike’s knee. “Gotta go see a man about a horse.”

Spike made a face that showed his opinion of messy biological necessities and waved Xander away.

In Xander’s experience, bathrooms in bars with demon clientele could be awfully…interesting. This one was packed, and Xander tried very hard not to notice the varied ways the other customers emptied their bodies of beverage byproducts. For the most part, he really didn’t want to know. He also ignored the overly curious stares some of them gave him when he finally shouldered his way to a urinal.

Xander pissed and then washed his hands and left the bathroom. As he started to make his way to the bar he caught Spike’s eye, but was suddenly overcome with such a wave of dizziness that he had to lean against the wall for support. The whole room seemed to shift under his feet, and the air shimmered like a heat mirage. And then he wasn’t in Billy’s anymore. Instead he was standing in his shitty apartment, emptying the fridge of food that had gone bad while he was in the hospital. Luckily, there hadn’t been much there to begin with—he lived mostly on takeout and stuff he could microwave—but the milk was gross and the leftover Chinese looked about ready to walk out of the fridge on its own. He gagged a little and dumped it all in a trashbag, then held the bag at arm’s length as he walked out of his apartment and threw the mess into the big dumpster at the edge of the parking lot.

Parking lot. A parking lot half-filled with cars, none of which was his because his Cavalier had gone to the dealership in the sky. Although his boss had told him his job was still there, and Xander planned to return to work in a few days, buying a new car right now was out of the question. That meant the bus. Great.

When Xander came back inside he headed to the bathroom to wash his hands, and he caught a good look at himself in the mirror. His face looked like a cadaver’s, the area around the empty eye socket still bruised and misshapen. Dr. Abrams had told him he was going to need reconstructive surgery to fix the bone structure, but that was a little out of his price range for the foreseeable future. The rest of his face was pale, his remaining eye had a huge dark circle underneath it, and his scalp was only just now beginning to grow a little stubble. He’d been carrying an extra twenty pounds or so when the accident happened. He’d lost quite a bit of that in the hospital, but didn’t look any better for it. His skin seemed to hang on him like too-large clothes.

Xander glared at himself and marched out of the bathroom. Maybe he’d walk to the 7-11 and pick up some beer. It wasn’t like he was going to be able to drink and drive again anytime soon. He looked around. Where had he left his shoes?

He was bending over to pick up a sneaker when he was hit by an attack of vertigo and he toppled backwards, landing solidly on his ass. God, was his brain injured after all, he wondered, and Spike said, “Xan? Xander? What’s wrong?” with panic threaded through every syllable.

Xander blinked up at his lover, at the crowd of humans and demons who were looking down at him, at the blinking colored lights that hung from the ceiling at Billy’s. With Spike’s help, he struggled to his feet. He clutched Spike’s arm hard, so hard he was sure Spike would have bruises. But Spike didn’t seem to notice. “Pet? Did someone hurt you?”

Xander slowly shook his head. “No. But I think we have a problem.”

[Chapter Three ](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/161197.html)

 


	3.  Aternate Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[alternate reality bites](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/alternate%20reality%20bites), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Alternate Reality Bites (3/8)**_  
**Title:** Aternate Reality Bites    
**Chapter:** 3 of 8   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** NC-17   
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:** Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.   
**A/N**: This fic is complete and I'll be posting it over the next 3 days. It takes place in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1), but can be read on its own right even if you haven't read the rest of the 'verse. For [](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/profile)[**spring_with_xan**](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/) .   
**Credits**: I'm grateful to [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/)  for the wonderful banner and to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for the fantastic beta work!

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Alternate%20Reality%20Bites&filter=all).

**Three**

 

While Spike gnawed anxiously at his bottom lip, hovering near his partner like a mother hen, Xander answered the zillionth question from Angel and Kyna. “No, it wasn’t a hallucination. It was…. When I have these…things. These visions. It’s like…I _am_ that Xander. Or he’s me. I don’t know.” He groaned lightly and sank his head into his hands.

Spike set a cool palm on the back of Xander’s neck. “Leave him be,” Spike said. “Can’t you see my boy’s knackered? Go off and research or whatever it is you plan to do, but let him get some sleep.”

It was a measure of the potential seriousness of the situation that Angel didn’t argue. He made an unhappy sort of _hmph_ noise instead. “Fine. But if anything else happens—”

“You’ll be the first to know, Peaches.”

Angel and Kyna said good night and left. Spike was right—Xander felt as if he couldn’t possibly move a muscle. But Spike gently undressed him and then almost carried him to the bed. After Spike removed his own clothes, he snuggled up close and sucked lightly on his favorite spot on Xander’s neck. It soothed them both.

“Sorry,” Xander said before he drifted off to sleep.

“For what?”

“I ruined our evening.”

Spike bopped him lightly on the flank. “Berk. ‘T’s not your fault.”

“What if it is? What if I tripped some hex trap or conjured a demon or something? I did before, remember? With the show tunes and the spontaneous combustion?”

Spike sighed. “Pet, everyone makes mistakes. Do you need a recital of a century’s worth of my bollocksed schemes? The Buffybot, for example.”

Xander couldn’t suppress a snort of laughter over that one.

Spike squirmed a little, settling the planes of his body more comfortably against Xander’s. “Whatever it is, we’ll get it sorted. Get some sleep, love.”

 

 

***

 

Xander gritted his teeth through the tenth pirate joke of the day and tried to resist the urge to punch the customer in the mouth. He had a headache, the type that felt like tiny little men were scraping away at the inside of his skull, and his eye socket itched. The manager had noticed him dragging and had offered to let him go home early, but Xander was out of sick days and he badly needed the pay. So he plastered a smile on his face and imagined using a staple gun on this guy’s bulbous, red nose. “What kind of grout were you looking for, sir? Resin? Epoxy? Cement?”

“How the hell should I know, Cap’n Kidd? You’re the pro, right?”

No, not a staple gun. A nail gun. “What kind of project do you need it for?”

“A tiling project, genius.”

“What kind of tile and where?”

“In the bathroom. And, uh, I don’t know. It’s green and about this big.” He held his hands out to demonstrate.

Xander sighed. “Let’s go visit the tile aisle first, okay? Then I’ll help you with the grout.”

Half an hour later, the guy happily wheeled away a shopping cart full of grout and thinset and tile nippers and spacers and a float and a copy of _Tiling for Dummies_. Xander glanced at his watch. Great. Only another three hours to go. He turned to make his way to the lumber section where, if he was lucky, he could hide behind the plywood for a while. But he almost bumped into a man who stood there, blocking his way.

“Good Lord! What happened to your face?” the man asked.

And that was enough. Xander couldn’t stand one more shocked look, one more “Ahoy, matey!” Without a word, without even looking at the guy’s no-doubt disgusted face, Xander pushed past the man and took off at a near-run for the employee break room. He was proud of himself. He made it all the way to a bathroom stall before he threw up.

 

***

 

“Xan? Are you there, Xan?”

Xander found himself again blinking up at Spike. This time, though, instead of on the floor of a nightclub, he was huddled on the thick rug beside his own bed. “Ngh,” he said.

Spike looked slightly relieved to have received a response. “Another one, then?”

“Yeah.” Xander tried to pull himself shakily to his feet, but Spike grabbed him and hauled him onto the mattress.

“Still sequential?”

“Yeah. It’s so _real_, Spike! When I’m there, it’s like…I don’t remember you or...or any of this.” He waved his hands around to indicate their suite, the hotel at large. “I have a whole separate set of memories, and while I’m in these dreams, they’re as clear as my real ones are now.”

Spike sat down beside him and put his arm around Xander’s shoulders. “And now?”

“Now I remember both. The ones from my dream—they’re kind of like this fuzzy overlay. They’re like—”

“Xan? Let’s go tell this tale in front of the others, yeah? So you only have to say it once. Perhaps they’ve dug something useful out of all those books.”

Xander thought that was a pretty good idea. It was hard enough to explain even once, and he didn’t have the energy to do it twice. So he and Spike showered. They didn’t fool around—not even Spike was in the mood—but Spike did shampoo Xander’s hair for him, which was nice. After they’d dressed, Spike steered Xander to the table and insisted that he sit there while Spike made him a sandwich. Spike brought the sandwich to the table along with a glass of milk and a banana and a bag of potato chips. “Gonna cut the crust off, too?” Xander asked, grinning slightly.

Spike just rolled his eyes and heated himself some blood.

Kyna and Angel were downstairs in what had once been the hotel’s office. After the explosion, Xander had expanded that space considerably, turning it into a full-fledged library. Fortunately, most of the books had been stored down in the basement and had escaped damage in the blast. Xander had built a lot of shelves, and then Angel had outfitted the space with a few large tables, two desks, and a bunch of chairs. Spike and Xander didn’t really spend much time in there, generally, but Angel and Kyna seemed to like it a lot. Now they were sitting at one of the tables, looking at a big volume, but they looked up as Spike and Xander entered.

“You find anything?” Spike asked.

“No,” said Angel. “It reminded me a little of Doyle. He had these visions, from the Powers That Be, until he, uh…. And then Cordy had them, but…. Well, anyway, I don’t think this is the same thing.”

Xander ignored the little twinge he felt at the mention of Cordelia and collapsed heavily into a padded armchair. “It’d be stupid to give visions to a one-eyed man,” he said, smiling slightly.

But Spike wasn’t smiling. “He had another one today, while he was asleep.”

Kyna said, “What happened this time, Xander?”

“Nothing, really. More excitement at Home Depot. Just another crappy day, I guess.”

Spike perched on the arm of Xander’s chair and Xander leaned back into Spike’s arm. “Tell them about the memories, love,” Spike said.

So Xander tried his best to explain, and the other three listened closely. When he was finished, Kyna asked, “So now you can recall your dream self’s life?”

Xander nodded. “It’s kind of fuzzy, but yeah.”

“Is it similar to your own?”

Xander frowned, trying to concentrate. It was like when he had a word just on the tip of his tongue but couldn’t quite spit it out. “I think…the early stuff is pretty much the same. I remember—he remembers—Willow and Jesse. His Tony and Jessica were as much a pair of asshats as mine. He didn’t pass seventh grade social studies either. But then…no Buffy. No Buffy, no vampires or demons, no…Hellmouthery.” It was kind of a shock, actually, to almost-recall a fairly normal life.

“What else, pet?” Spike asked softly.

“Jesse still died. Leukemia, sophomore year. Christ. And Willow and I—Willow and _he_—kind of grew apart. She went off to college, he had a bunch of minimum wage jobs and lived in his parents’ basement.”

“Just like you, Xan.”

“Yeah. Only he blew it when he got a break in construction, and there was no Anya.” He choked out an unamused laugh. “He got laid for the first time when he was nineteen. Some girl at a bar. He never knew her name. He drank…no, he _drinks_ a lot. Like dear old Dad. Thus the general job suckage. He and Willow fell out of touch. He sort of moved around, looking for something better. He hasn’t found it.”

Xander had been staring at nothing, some vague point on the wall. Now he focused his eye and looked at the others in the room. “I could’ve ended up like that, I think. It feels like…like a direction I could’ve gone.”

“The road not taken,” Spike murmured.

“Yeah,” Xander said, and snaked an arm around Spike’s waist. “What I’d be in a world without supernatural stuff. Without _you_, sweetheart.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Angel said. “It’s another world. An alternate dimension.”

“Like the world without shrimp,” said Xander. The others just looked at him quizzically, and he shrugged. “Okay, let’s say Angel’s right. Why am I suddenly tuned into the Alternate Dimension Channel? And for God’s sake, how can I tune out?”

But nobody had the answers to those questions.

They discussed some possibilities after that, but they were mostly just random speculations. After a while, Xander could feel Spike getting twitchy, and Xander himself couldn’t manage to just sit for much longer. So he didn’t—he stood and then tugged Spike to his feet as well. “Let’s go for a ride, Spike. Or a run. Something. Let’s get out of here.”

“What if you have another…spell?”

“You make me sound like some kind of Victorian maiden aunt. If I do have one, you’ll be right there, won’t you? With…what is it you give people having spells? Smelling salts. What the hell _are_ smelling salts, anyway?”

“Xander, if you collapse again you could be hurt—”

“I could be hurt every time I get on the freeway. But I’m a big boy now—a big werewolf, actually—and I won’t die if I fall down. Besides, I trust you to keep me safe.”

Spike looked like he might be wavering.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I can’t stay cooped up in here forever. You can drive, okay?”

Spike sighed theatrically. “Right, then. But just for a bit, yeah?”

“Fine. We’ll be back before I turn into a pumpkin.”

Xander grabbed Spike’s hand and began to drag him toward the door. Angel had wandered over to the shelves and was perusing them, looking for a particular book maybe. They didn’t seem to be very well organized. Xander wondered what the Dewey Decimal number for alternate dimensions was. Just before Xander left, Kyna called out.

“Xander? Would you mind if I brought in some outside assistance?”

He stopped. “Outside assistance?”

“Yes. Someone who could research the problem as well.”

“And that would be?” asked Spike, protective again.

“I was thinking perhaps Mr. Giles, as he means to visit us anyway.”

Xander thought about it for a moment. It never did hurt to have Giles lending his big brain. “Yeah, okay. Want me to call him?”

She smiled at him, which softened the harsh planes of her face into something almost beautiful. “No. You go have your romp. I’ll ring him myself.”

 

***

 

They took Spike’s GTO. Spike seemed to have a destination in mind, so Xander leaned back into his seat and watched as they flew down the road. “You know, if you’re so worried about my hide, maybe you could slow down to Mach 2.”

Spike snorted dismissively. “Vampire reflexes, love. ‘T’s perfectly safe.”

“You have vampire reflexes. The guy driving that semi over there most likely does not.”

Spike just stepped harder on the gas.

In what felt like no time at all, they’d flown south, all the way down the coast. Spike pulled the car to a stop alongside a state park. “Fancy a run?” he asked.

Xander nodded eagerly. He looked around—there was nobody near—and stripped out of his clothes as Spike pulled off his Docs. Then, ignoring Spike’s leer, he hopped out of the car and shifted. It hurt. It always did. But he’d become faster at it, so the pain was more like ripping off a scab than being flayed, and in any case the pain was always worth it, if for nothing else than the intoxicating mix of scents he inhaled through his long muzzle. Most times when he shifted, his first thought was how he tolerated his senses so dulled in human form: the absence of acute hearing and smelling was like taking his one eye and squinting it nearly closed, then turning off all the lights.

Spike walked over and scratched the fur just behind Xander’s left ear, then that perpetually itchy spot between his shoulder blades. “Ready, pet?”

For an answer, Xander took off running.

A small path led down to the beach. It was twisty, and with the new moon there wasn’t much light to make out obstacles. But now Xander could see almost as well as Spike in the dark, and his balance was better due to a lower center of gravity. He flew down the path in a few heartbeats, then tore across the soft sand until he got to the spot where the high tide had packed the beach nicely. And then he really ran. He loved the way his paws flew over the ground, the claws kicking up little divots of silica. His tongue was lolling from his open mouth and he smelled salt and seaweed and the tiny things that lived under the waveline and something dead and deliciously rotting and smoke from distant fireplaces and pine sap and…and about a million other things, too many to name.

Spike was just behind him, and it made Xander happy to know the vampire was struggling to keep up. Made him so happy, in fact, he put on a burst of speed, pulling many yards ahead, before he turned and looped back and ran in circles around Spike, barking and nipping at Spike’s feet like a puppy. And then he threw all his weight into the back of Spike’s knees and they were rolling together on the beach, growling and biting and panting, and Spike was laughing so hard he kept getting mouthfuls of sand.

After a while they both rested, splayed out against one another and breathing hard. Spike’s fingers combed through the fur on Xander’s flank, and it was so good, so _right_ to be with his alpha like this, that Xander couldn’t contain his happiness any longer and he sprang to his feet.

“Frisky tonight, aren’t you?” Spike chuckled.

Xander took off towards the waves. The water was cold, but his pelt was pretty decent insulation and, in fact, he needed a bit of cool-down after that run. He stood and let the water wash over his legs and then went pouncing off, splashing happily.

Spike was still fully dressed except for his bare feet. He stayed above the waves, watching Xander carefully. With a surge of devilry, Xander leapt out of the water and headed straight for the vampire. Spike tried to run, but he was too late: Xander shook himself mightily, instantly soaking his indignant alpha.

 “Oi! Git!” Spike tried to catch him but Xander was too fast, and they had a wonderful chase up and down the beach until Xander’s muscles began to tire a little and even Spike was looking a little weary.

“Come on, Rover. We need to beat the sunrise home.”

Back up at the car, Xander shifted again. Shivering, he ducked quickly into the passenger seat and pulled on his clothing while Spike started up the engine and cranked the heat all the way up.

“Feeling better?” Spike asked. “We could make a quick stop so you can track down a rabbit, if you like.”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“You smell like fish.”

“Hmm,” Xander said sleepily.

They drove in silence for a while until, in a soft voice, Spike said, “Xan?”

“Yeah?”

“In that…that other dimension….”

Xander opened his eye and looked over at Spike. “Yes?”

“If there’s nothing supernatural there, well, I was never turned.”

Xander considered this for a moment. “I suppose that’s true.”

“So…I’ve been dead and gone for, what? Eighty years?”

Xander’s stomach lurched. “I guess so.”

“I wonder what became of William Pratt, without Dru.”

“Is that…. I don’t know if there’s any way for me to find out, Spike. I don’t even remember this me when I’m there.”

Spike shook his head slightly. “No, doesn’t matter. I was just thinking about what might have become of you, without me. Perhaps you’d have a normal life, with—”

“No! That Xander’s life sucks, remember?”

Spike shrugged. “His does. But you’re no loser. Without me you’d—”

“Without you, I’d be miserable.”

“You wouldn’t be a wolf.”

“Newsflash, baby: I _like _being a wolf. It’s cool. But, hell, I’d be a were_slug_ if it meant I could be with you. I thought we’d pretty much established already that you’re the light of my life. You complete me. You’re…. I’m gonna break into a cheesy love song here, Spike.”

Spike glanced over at him, emotions flickering rapidly across his face. “I don’t deserve you, you know,” Spike said.

“Well, drive a little faster then, sweetheart. When we get home, you can work on earning me.”

 

[Chapter Four](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/161517.html)

 


	4.  Aternate Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[alternate reality bites](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/alternate%20reality%20bites), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Alternate Reality Bites (4/8)**_  
**Title:** Aternate Reality Bites    
**Chapter:** 4 of 8   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** NC-17   
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:** Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.   
**A/N**: This fic is complete and I'll be posting it over the next 3 days. It takes place in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1), but can be read on its own right even if you haven't read the rest of the 'verse. For [](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/profile)[**spring_with_xan**](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/) .   
**Credits**: I'm grateful to [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/)  for the wonderful banner and to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for the fantastic beta work!

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Alternate%20Reality%20Bites&filter=all).

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000cr390/)  
---  
  
**Four**

 

Xander clicked through a cooking show, past something that involved repotting herbs, and skimmed over about fifteen channels of cartoons and Disney sitcoms. Then he was into the more adult realm. _South Park_ was funny for about five minutes before he got bored. HBO was showing a chick flick, something with Renee Zellweger. Cinemax had soft-core porn, which might have diverted him except it had been so goddamn long since he got any that it was downright depressing. He flipped to the sports channels instead. Tennis. Great.

Over the past few weeks, his head had stopped hurting and the swelling had disappeared. The maddening itch in his empty socket was gone. His bone structure was still off on that side of his face, slightly skewed like something in a funhouse mirror, but Dr. Abrams said it wasn’t dangerous. No, he thought, just ugly. He was back to work full-time, even back to a few beers now and then at the end of the day. He had two hundred dollars saved up so far, which meant he’d be able to afford a new car, oh, sometime in the next century maybe. But that was okay, he was managing. He was getting on with his life.

Only, something was wrong. At first he’d thought it was the accident itself, or having lost an eye. But that wasn’t it. Hell, sometimes now when he was home he could almost forget for a while that he was a Cyclops, until he went to toss a wrapper in the trash and missed because his depth perception sucked, or when he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror.

No, his problem was something else. He felt…off. Like he was missing something, or had forgotten something important. Sometimes he felt like his apartment wasn’t his own, like he was supposed to be someplace else. Sometimes he missed someone so deeply that he thought he might cry. He’d wake up expecting another body to be next to his, arms to be wrapped around him, the solid comfort of a loved one close within reach. But of course it was always just him, and it was stupid to feel that way. He’d never had a loved one. Never dated for longer than a couple weeks. Never _had_ anyone.

Maybe he had damaged his brain after all.

Xander tossed the remote control across the room and didn’t even wince when it made a mark on the white paint, when the plastic fell apart and the battery rolled out onto the floor.

Beer. He was pretty sure he still had some in the fridge. He was just getting up to find out when someone knocked on his door.

His first thought was that the rent was overdue, but no, he’d managed to get that in on time. Jehovah’s Witnesses, maybe. He ignored the knock and went to the fridge, but just as he was reaching for the handle, there was another knock, louder, more insistent.

Crap, he thought. What if the cops had decided to charge him with DUI after all? He sighed resignedly and went to answer.

“Xander!” said the man who stood there.

Xander frowned at him in confusion. The guy was familiar. Tall, thin, a few years older than Xander. Glasses. Dark hair and dark stubble on his chin. A sort of desperate glint in his eyes. “Xander Harris,” he said with an English accent, and then Xander placed him. He was a customer, the guy who’d exclaimed over Xander’s face a couple weeks earlier. There weren’t a whole lot of Brits around here.

“Yeah?” Xander said, confused.

“I need to talk with you. It’s urgent.”

Xander wondered what kind of nut-job this guy was, and how he’d tracked Xander down. He could have got Xander’s name from his name tag, but how did he find the apartment? He must be some kind of deranged stalker.

“Thanks, but, um, I’m kind of busy right now,” Xander said and started to close the door.

The man blocked the door with a surprisingly strong hand. “Please. I’ve been searching for you for…for some time, and I really must speak with you. I need your help.”

“Look, mister, whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying. If you’re trying to get me to convert, well, I’m glad you’ve found Jesus. Tell him hi for me. If you’re looking for some kind of donation, I gave at the office.”

The man shook his head. “It’s none of those. Please, let me in and I can explain.”

“I don’t think so.” Xander repeated his attempt to shut the door, and again the man blocked him.

“My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I’m…well, this is rather difficult to explain. I’m not from here.”

“Yeah, the accent kinda gives that away, man.”

“No, no, I mean I’m not from this…this reality. I was brought here and—”

“Wait. Are you trying to tell me you’re from another planet? Like, ‘Take me to your leader,’ and all that? Or maybe more ‘To serve man.’”

Wyndam-Pryce rolled his eyes. “No, Xander, I’m very much from Earth. Just…another dimension, if you will.”

Xander barked out a laugh. “Well, I won’t. Look, buddy, I’d suggest heading home and asking your doctor to up your dosage of Thorazine, ‘cause what you’ve got ain’t doing the job for you.”

“I’m not a lunatic, Xander!”

“Of course not. Now just toddle on home before I call the cops, okay?”

“Xander, please—”

But Xander shoved hard and managed to dislodge the crazy guy enough to close the door. He quickly twisted the lock and then, for good measure, slipped the chain lock into place as well.

Wyndam-Pryce pounded on the door, yelling Xander’s name, ignoring Xander’s orders to shut up and go away. Xander really was about to pick up the phone when he heard his neighbor’s door slam open. “What the fuck is your problem, dude?” shouted the neighbor. Xander didn’t know his name, but he’d seen him before and he was big and kind of scary-looking. “Shut the fuck up before I tear you a new one.”

To Xander’s relief, the knocking stopped. He heard footsteps going away, then the neighbor’s door shut so hard it shook the wall.

Xander went and fetched that beer, finally—there were two left—and collapsed onto the couch. “That was really fucking weird,” he said out loud. He appreciated the irony of talking to himself to complain about somebody else being nuts. But the really weird part was that, deep inside, he wished he’d listened to Wyndam-Pryce’s story.

 

***

 

This time, Xander found himself in the training room where, the last he remembered, he’d been sparring with Spike. Now he was propped up on a mat with, of course, his anxious vampire kneeling beside him, stroking his face. Xander sat up so suddenly he became dizzy, and Spike had to grab him before he toppled over. “Oi! Be careful!”

“I need to talk to Angel right now!”

Spike looked a little hurt. “He’s in the library, I expect.”

Xander pulled Spike in for a hug. “This one was especially strange, and I think maybe it has something to do with Angel.”

Spike’s face grew stormy as he helped Xander to his feet. “If that wanker has done something to you—”

“Relax. That’s not what I mean.”

Angel was, in fact, in the library, sitting at one of the tables. He had a glass of whiskey in one hand and a small book in the other. Kyna was cross-legged on the floor, peering and poking away at a laptop balanced on her knees.

“He had another one,” Spike announced, and Kyna and Angel looked at Xander with mild alarm.

“Angel, what happened to Wesley?” Xander asked.

Angel goggled at him, clearly taken completely by surprise. Spike looked pretty shocked, too. “Wes? Wesley Wyndam-Pryce?” Angel said.

“Only Wesley I know. He worked for you after he gave up the Watcher gig, right? But didn’t he die?”

Spike could hear Angel swallow. “Yes. Right before the battle. He was killed by a sorcerer.”

“Well, he was there, in Loserxanville. He showed up at my—dammit! At the other Xander’s door, claiming he was from another dimension. The other Xan thinks he’s loco and sent him away.”

“Fuck,” said everyone else in the room.

“Pretty much.”

Kyna called Giles again. Giles was surprised but maybe, she said, not as surprised as she’d have expected. In any case, he said he’d change his and Lindsey’s tickets, and be there in two days instead of the following week.

Xander stayed firmly in his own dimension for that time. Spike wouldn’t let him out of his sight, but that wasn’t necessarily such a bad thing.

The night before Giles arrived, they took a bath together, Spike settling himself between Xander’s legs and up against Xander’s chest. He tipped his head back onto his lover’s shoulder and closed his eyes. “Heaven,” he said.

Xander couldn’t have agreed more. He settled one hand on Spike’s hip and placed the other on Spike’s chest, tweaking lightly at one nipple. “It was kind of weird to see Wesley again. I mean, in retrospect, again. ‘Cause at the time he was just raving lunatic guy.”

“He wasn’t a bad sort, for a Watcher.”

“I still can’t picture him all…heroic-like. Or kinda dark and twisty.” Angel never spoke of his son, but Spike had told Xander the bizarre tale. “When I knew him in Sunnyhell he was a bigger dork than I ever was.”

“He grew up.”

“Yeah. A few apocalypses’ll do that to a guy.”

“Or a vampire,” Spike said, and turned his head to nuzzle Xander’s neck.

“Hmm. And, speaking of growing up….” Xander dropped his hand down to Spike’s groin and began to lazily stroke Spike’s cock. Spike hardened quickly under his touch, and Xander felt his own cock grow and fill. Obligingly, Spike shifted a little so Xander’s cock was nestled comfortably between them, the crown pressing slightly into the cleft of Spike’s ass.

“Why couldn’t life be like this all the time?” Xander asked. “I mean, with the baths and the cuddling and the sex and all the good stuff? Without interdimensional trances or poisonous demon bites or hexes. No hexes of any kind!”

“Without supernatural shite, you mean?”

“No, I want the _good _supernatural shit. Sexy souled vamp boyfriends.”

“Wouldn’t appreciate the good so much without the bad, pet. Yin and yang.”

Xander wasn’t convinced, but instead of arguing he nibbled on Spike’s pale shoulder. Despite the heat of the bathwater, they both shivered.

“Spike?” Xander said a few moments later.

“Hmm?”

“What do you suppose would have happened to you—well, _did_ happen to you, in that other world?”

Spike was silent a while, thinking. “Dunno. Might’ve eventually married, I expect. Would have had to find a position of some sort—we were running short of dosh when I died. Perhaps I’d have become a teacher, perhaps even a lecturer at university. My uncle was a bureaucrat; he could have found me a position.” He sighed. “I wouldn’t have amounted to anything much.”

“You wouldn’t have saved the world. But would you have been happy?”

“Maybe. But not as happy as I am with you, love.”

That was enough to satisfy Xander, at least for the time being. He pushed Spike away, ignoring Spike’s indignant protests, and pulled the bathtub plug. He tossed Spike a towel and used another to dry himself. Then they dropped the towels and embraced, kissing and gently biting and sucking on one another’s skin, and groping. Awkwardly, without breaking contact, they made their way out of the bathroom and across the bedroom. Xander fell back onto the mattress as it hit the back of his knees, and Spike toppled right on top of him.

After three years together, Xander still couldn’t believe how lucky he was, how good it felt to have a naked, male vampire squirming over his body, how he’d come to crave Spike the way a drunk craves the bottle.

When Spike dismounted and walked away, Xander nearly whined. But Spike only went as far as the bedside table, from which he produced a bottle of lube. He returned to Xander’s side and then put one foot up on the mattress.

Xander watched raptly as Spike poured a little of the liquid onto his long fingers and reached under himself to push the fingers inside. “Let me,” Xander said, reaching for the bottle.

But Spike moved the bottle away and pushed him back down. “Uh-uh. You just watch now.” Xander did, biting at his lip to stop a moan from escaping as Spike languidly prepared himself. The moan did escape, though, when Spike poured a bit more lube on his palm, tossed the bottle aside, and slicked Xander’s cock with a few firm caresses.

With his tongue curled behind his teeth in the way that he knew always drove Xander wild, Spike climbed onto the bed with his knees straddling Xander’s hips and grasped Xander’s eager cock in his hand, and began to lower himself onto it.

And then he stopped. “You’re not going to go away while we’re shagging, are you?”

“Ew. I most sincerely hope not.”

Spike didn’t exactly look reassured, but he did sink down slowly, deliciously, engulfing Xander’s girth in his tight, silky channel.

“Christ,” Xander said. He moved his hand up, towards Spike’s tempting cock, but Spike batted his hand away.

“I’m doing all the work this time,” Spike said.

“Do I get to participate at all?”

“You get to lie there and watch and think about how fortunate you are to have me.” Spike punctuated his sentence with a slight wiggle that made Xander groan and lose all desire to argue.

And Xander did watch, sort of wishing for the first time in a long while that he had two eyes—all the better to see you with, my dear. Spike moved slowly up and down, flexing his powerful thighs, clenching all his muscles in the very best ways. At first, Spike’s cock bobbed damply against his belly as he moved, but then Spike wrapped one hand around it, using the other hand to help balance himself above Xander. Xander watched, mesmerized, as the red crown of Spike’s cock appeared and disappeared within Spike’s fist, as Xander’s own cock appeared then disappeared into Spike’s welcoming body.

Xander couldn’t stand not touching at all. He placed his hands on Spike’s hips, and either that was okay with Spike, or the vampire was too far gone to notice. Spike bit his own lip so hard that a tiny trickle of blood started down his chin, but he stuck his tongue out and licked it away; a small motion, but one so erotic that Xander groaned and dug his fingertips into Spike’s tender skin. He wished there was some way he could mark Spike as his, just a tiny little scar somewhere, like the pinpricks that dotted Xander’s throat. Maybe Spike would agree to a tattoo, he thought.

Then he stopped thinking at all, as Spike sped his movements and threw his head back, as the bedsprings squeaked and one of the pillows fell to the floor, as Spike swore and cried out and came, his spend erupting over his fingers and his back arching. Moments later, sweet lightning sizzled up and down Xander’s spine and he climaxed as well.

Spike withdrew himself and flopped down at Xander’s side.

“See?” Xander said. “I stayed right here.”

 

***

 

It was not a comfortable gathering. Giles and Lindsey sat on the loveseat. Lindsey’s lower legs were encased in braces, and he had them propped up on the coffee table. His arm was flung around Giles’s shoulders and he looked very smug. Giles, on the other hand, appeared a little uncomfortable with the small PDA. His mouth was clenched tight and his body was stiff and he kept alternating between narrowing his eyes at Angel and looking unhappily at Xander. Angel, meanwhile, was perched in the Punishment Chair—the most uncomfortable chair in the room—glaring at Lindsey and periodically wincing when Kyna dug her fingers into his bicep.

“Sorry, the new suites aren’t quite ready,” Xander said. “You can have ours if you want.”

“A simple room is quite fine, Xander,” Giles said. “I’ve no wish to evict you.”

“Your room has a king-sized bed, anyway. So you two can…um. And we got the elevators fixed. But, um, I guess you already knew that. So if you get hungry, there’s food here in our suite, or we can get you a fridge for yours, ‘cause we’ll be buying one anyway for the new suites. Or you can use the big kitchen downstairs. Or takeout, or, uh, there’s lots of restaurants ‘cause this is LA.” He knew he was babbling, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop.

Mercifully, Spike put his hand over Xander’s mouth. “Let’s skip the nattering, shall we? What’s happening to my boy, Watcher?”

Giles took off his glasses. He looked like he might want to polish them, but he didn’t have a hanky nearby. He put them back on. “Well, we’re not certain, actually.”

“But you have an idea,” Spike said.

“Yes. Some of the members of the Council were documenting the activities and demise of Wolfram &amp; Hart. Lindsey and I were helping. Lindsey, of course, had a great deal of useful information about the firm.”

“Unfortunately,” Lindsey muttered.

Giles patted Lindsey’s leg in a gesture that Xander found very sweet. Giles said, “As we worked, we became aware of some odd…discrepancies. As some of you know” —he looked at Angel and Lindsey—“the firm had many of its employees sign contracts that bound them indefinitely to the firm. Bound them even past death.”

“But Wolfram &amp; Hart is gone. That should have nullified the contracts,” Angel said.

Lindsey answered. “It did. So Lilah, Holland, they’re free, off to wherever naughty lawyers go.”

“What does this have to do with Xander?” Spike demanded impatiently. “He never signed a contract with those wankers. Nor did I, for that matter.”

Giles nodded. “Yes, I know. But Wesley did. And during our research we uncovered some indications that when he was murdered, the firm had him…his soul, I expect…stored somewhere. Somewhere out of the way, where he couldn’t interfere with their plans for Angel. They probably thought that they could bring him back here eventually in some capacity. But you can’t simply stuff a soul into a box of some sort—the person, or whatever was left of him, would go insane.”

Xander was beginning to understand. “So they stuck him in this other dimension and they figured he couldn’t come back until they went and got him.”

“Precisely. As I said, we just recently became aware of this possibility and we’ve been trying to locate him.”

Spike growled so quietly nobody but Xander and Angel heard him. “What the bloody hell does this have to do with Xander?”

Giles frowned. “We attempted to open a communication portal of sorts, between our world and the one where we believe Wesley is. It’s quite a difficult task in the best of circumstances—make a mistake and you’ve created a new Hellmouth—and we were having particular problems in this case. Most likely because that world is without magic, although we didn’t know that at the time. We’d nearly given up. That’s why I was going to come here next week; I wanted to see whether the books you have might be helpful.”

Kyna had been sitting beside Angel, chewing on the end of her ponytail, but now she stood and pointed at Giles. “I see! When you went mucking about with alternate dimensions, you somehow pulled Xander into the mess.”

“I’m afraid so,” Giles said. Xander had to restrain Spike, who growled again and looked ready to leap for Giles’s throat.

“Let’s get some more info before we wreak mayhem on our source, okay sweetheart?” Xander said. Spike glowered but stopped resisting, and instead slumped back in his chair. “Okay, G-Man. So you’ve opened up a chatline with the other side, and it’s kinda sorta working, even though they don’t have magic over there. Got it. But why me? I barely even knew the guy. Haven’t seen him in years.”

“I was thinking about this during our flight,” said Giles.

Lindsey nodded. “Beats the in-flight movies. _Twilight_ and_ Beverly Hills Chihuahua. _Ugh.”

Xander was very satisfied to see Giles do that semi-affectionate eye roll at someone other than him. “I believe there are several reasons why the enchantment affected you specifically, Xander,” he said. “It has settled on someone who knew Wesley, someone who the members of the Council knew of. But it wouldn’t work on anyone whose alter-ego is dead in the alternate dimension, so that eliminates Angel and Spike.”

Xander squeezed Spike’s hand, because he still didn’t like to think of him gone. “Fine. But then what about Buffy or Willow? Or Faith—she was his Slayer, for Christ’s sake.”

“I’m not sure. Are you sure that they’re alive there?”

Xander thought. “No. That Xander never met Buffy or Faith, and he hasn’t talked to Will in years.”

Giles nodded. “Your location may also have played a part. Wesley signed his contract here, he died here, he left this plane of existence here. It makes sense that his ties to LA would be particularly strong.”

As Xander pondered this, Spike lurched to his feet, this time managing to avoid Xander’s grab. “Fine, then,” Spike said. “Now that you’ve sussed out what’s going on, disconnect the fucking line and let Xander free!”

Giles didn’t even flinch. He’d probably been the target of Spike’s tantrums too often. He looked Xander straight in the eye. “I believe we can break off communication, although it won’t be simple. But the connection between the worlds can only be made once. If we end it now, Wesley will be trapped there permanently.”

 

[Chapter Five](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/161542.html)

 


	5.  Aternate Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[alternate reality bites](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/alternate%20reality%20bites), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Alternate Reality Bites (5/8)**_  
**Title:** Aternate Reality Bites    
**Chapter:** 5 of 8   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** NC-17   
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:** Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.   
**A/N**: This fic is complete and I'll be posting it over the next 3 days. It takes place in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1), but can be read on its own right even if you haven't read the rest of the 'verse. For [](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/profile)[**spring_with_xan**](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/) .   
**Credits**: I'm grateful to [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/)  for the wonderful banner and to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for the fantastic beta work!

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Alternate%20Reality%20Bites&filter=all).

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000cr390/)  
---  
  
**Five**

 

The store was crowded. He hated shopping here at this time of day, when everyone else had just got off work too, and everyone was scrounging for dinner. And he wasn’t all that fond of Safeway to begin with. But it was on the bus route on his way home, so that’s where he went. He’d been eating less fast food lately in an attempt to save up more quickly for a car. As a result of that, plus the extra walking he’d been doing, he’d managed to keep off the weight he’d dropped in the hospital, which was satisfying. Not that he was going to attract anyone anyway, what with his horror-show face and his crappy life and less-than-sparkling personality, but he felt healthier and that was good. He’d been drinking less as well: there weren’t any bars within walking distance of his apartment, and beer was heavy to carry home.

Tonight, Xander bought a roasted chicken and some potato salad and a loaf of bread and some tangerines, and he pretended not to notice the way the cashier avoided looking him straight in the face, or the way the sticky little boy hanging out at the gumball machine gaped at him. But his time in line had been long enough that he missed the next bus. He had to wait at the bus stop, clutching his bags, ignoring the way people stared at him as they drove past. It had been a long day and his feet hurt.

The bus finally lumbered up and wheezed to a halt in front of him. Xander climbed on board and fumbled awkwardly to pull out his pass; he flashed it at the driver, who started driving again while Xander was still making his way down the aisle. Xander lurched and almost fell. The bus was fairly full. Most people didn’t look up at him at all, those who did appeared surly. Nobody scooted over to give him a seat. Xander finally stopped next to a thin man wearing a Raiders jacket. “Excuse me,” Xander said. The man scowled but moved over.

Six stops later, Xander got off. A light drizzle had started and he hunched his shoulders as he walked down the sidewalk. The rain dripped down his neck, under his collar, chilling him. By the time he made it the three blocks to his apartment, Xander wanted only to get inside, eat something, and crawl into a nice, warm bed. He trudged across the parking lot, up the stairs, and then around the corner.

The crazy guy was there, hunched against the wall next to Xander’s door. When he saw Xander, he got to his feet. “Xander, please,” he said.

Xander wanted to tell him to get lost; he was in no mood for lunacy right then. But maybe because the guy looked as exhausted, as beaten-down and defeated as Xander felt, or maybe just because Xander didn’t have the energy to argue, Xander held out his grocery bags. “Hold these,” he said.

The guy—what was his name? Wesley Something-Hyphenated—eagerly took the sacks. As Xander fumbled for his key, Wesley said, “Thank you. You’ve no idea how much this means to me. I’ve been trapped here, you see—”

“Tell you what. How about we get some food inside us and then you can rave at me all you want, okay?”

Wesley nodded and trailed after him. He hovered anxiously while Xander took out a couple of plates. How funny. It had been a long time since he’d needed more than one. He pulled out some silverware as well, and a couple of glasses. “Want some water? It’s all I got.” He very much wished he had something stronger.

“Water will be fine.”

Xander handed him a glassful. “Hang on. I’ll be right back,” Xander said. He went into the bedroom and kicked off his shoes. He pulled off his jacket and his damp shirt, and pulled on a sweatshirt instead. When he came back out, Wesley was sitting at the table. He’d taken the food out of the bags and was waiting fairly patiently. Xander had a sudden image of the man kissing Coredelia Chase in the Sunnydale High School library, and how odd was that? Xander hadn’t thought of her in years. Besides, as far as Xander knew, she’d never stepped foot in the library. He rarely had either, for that matter. He wasn’t exactly the scholarly type, and anyway, Mrs. Rodrigues, the librarian, kind of creeped him out.

Maybe the crazy was contagious.

Xander sat down opposite Wesley and began to serve the chicken. Wesley watched him intently. Finally, in a soft voice, Wesley said, “What happened to your eye?” He sounded genuinely concerned and sympathetic, and instead of reacting angrily, Xander found himself blinking back tears.

“Car wreck.”

“I’m very sorry.”

Xander shrugged and wiped at his remaining eye. “My own damn fault.”

“Still, I am—”

“Thanks. You might as well spit out your story now.” He took a big bite of chicken breast and waited.

Wesley nodded. “Yes. This is going to sound very improbable, I know, but….” He sighed. “It’s true.”

“Hit me.”

“I’m from an alternate universe. One quite similar to this one, actually, except in mine things exist that do not here. Magic.”

Xander blinked. “Magic? Like rabbits out of hats and sawing ladies in half?”

“Like witchcraft and supernatural beings. Demons. Vampire slayers.”

“Vampire slayers?”

“Yes. Young girls, one chosen in each generation to.... Well, that’s not really important right now. In any case, I got mixed up with some evil demon lawyers, and—”

“Evil demon lawyers?” This was more entertaining than he’d expected.

“Yes,” Wes replied with slight irritation. “They wanted to temporarily rid themselves of me, so they sent me here.”

“And you want to go home.”

“Of course.”

“Have you tried clicking your heels together three times?”

Wesley narrowed his eyes. “This may seem amusing to you, but I assure you—”

“Yeah, okay, I’m sorry.” Xander really was, a little. The guy was so earnest. “So you want to return to Magicland, and you haven’t managed to catch a ride home on a flying unicorn. How the hell do you think I can help?” He shoved another forkful of food into his mouth.

“Because I know you. Well, not you, precisely. I know the Xander Harris in my world.”

“Yeah? Am I some kind of big-time wizard or something there?”

“No. Actually, the last time I saw you, you were in high school. Afterwards, I believe you had a job in construction. And then you...well, I know this sounds unlikely, but you and your friends helped avert an apocalypse. I’m not sure what happened to you after that; I was rather caught up in my own matters. I believe—”

“Wait. I saved the world?”

Wesley looked steadily at him. “Yes. You were instrumental in saving the world more than once, actually.”

Xander laughed harshly. “Well, obviously your Xander Harris is nothing like me. He’s some kind of superhero or something.”

“No. He’s quite ordinary. I believe that when he was faced with problems, he simply made the right choices.”

Xander snorted. The right choices. He’d never do that. He ate a spoonful of potato salad, followed by a big swallow of water. “Okay,” he said, putting down his glass. “So your Xander is Mr. Action Hero guy. I’m obviously not.”

“Xander, I believe that if my colleagues knew where I was, they might be able to bring me back. I’ve been trying to find a way to send them a message. I attempted to track down other people I’d known, but some of them are dead in this world, and some I couldn’t find, and others would have nothing to do with me. It’s been quite difficult. I don’t officially exist here, I have no papers at all, so getting a job, traveling, those things have been challenging for me. I was running out of options. I hadn’t even thought of you, to be honest. We didn’t know each other well.” He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “And then, several months ago, I dreamt about you.”

“Oh?” Xander felt a little uncomfortable about that.

“Your other self, I expect. You were living in a hotel in Los Angeles where I once lived, along with my friends. You were wearing an eyepatch, actually. And as unlikely as it was, you were kissing someone else I’d known. Someone I never would have partnered you with, not even in the wildest fancies of my subconscious. I thought perhaps it wasn’t a dream after all, but a vision. So I began to look for you.”

“Who was I kissing?”

“Erm….” Wesley looked uncomfortable. “You were kissing a vampire.”

“A _vampire_? Like, the bride of Dracula? Or maybe more like Catherine Deneuve, ‘cause she was pretty sexy, actually.”

“No. This vampire is male. His name is Spike.”

Xander’s reaction was very strange. He should have dismissed Wesley’s entire story as the rantings of a madman. He should have been creeped out by the guy’s suggestion that Xander would make out with a manpire. But when Wesley said the vampire’s name—Spike; what the hell kind of name was that, even for a monster?—Xander’s heart ached, like he’d been reminded of something important that he’d lost long ago. And suddenly, as surely as he knew that his middle name was Lavelle and that clowns gave him nightmares, Xander _knew_ that Wesley’s tale was true.

 

***

 

“We’ve made contact,” Xander mumbled.

“Stop doing that!” said Spike.

“Didn’t really do it on purpose, baby.” Xander groaned slightly as Spike helped him to his feet. This time he’d blacked out in the Laura Ashley suite, right in the middle of installing a towel bar in the floral-wallpapered bathroom. Luckily Spike had been there, watching out for just such an occurrence, or maybe just watching because he enjoyed it. He seemed to have moved Xander out of the bathroom, onto the softer surface of the carpeted main room.

“You nearly bashed your head open on the bathtub.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I got conked in the head, Spike.” He walked into the bathroom. The rack was hanging off the wall, half-installed. Xander bent and picked up his electric drill.

“Yeah, and it’s lucky the bloody thing is hard as a rock. Pet, tell the sodding Council to let you go.”

“C’mon. We both know I’m not gonna leave Wesley stranded. Besides, now Wesley has convinced the other Xander that something’s going on, and the other Xander wants to help, too.”

Spike sighed. “Of course he does. He’s as big a berk as you are.”

Xander was quiet for a moment as he installed the screws to hold the rack in place. “There. That’s better. Hey, do you know if that faucet I was waiting for came?” Kyna had picked it out of the Insanely Expensive Bathroom Fixtures catalog, and, judging by the time it had taken for the package to arrive, the company was located in suburban Ulan Bator.

Spike ignored his question. “Percy’s a good enough sort, but you don’t owe him anything. Besides, is that world really so horrible?”

“No, it seems okay. But it’s not his home, Spike.” He set the screwdriver into his tool box and rested his hands on Spike’s shoulders. “You know why the other Xander’s playing along? Because when Wesley said your name, he recognized it—_I _recognized it—and he…I…we—whatever!—went all gooey inside.”

Spike pulled Xander into an embrace and snuffled into the crook of Xander’s neck. “Couldn’t go on if I lost you, Xan.”

“You’re not gonna lose me.” Xander stuck his nose in Spike’s hair and inhaled deeply. “This is no big—”

“Don’t say it!”

“Sorry.” He smacked a loud kiss onto Spike’s cheek. “Come on. Let’s tell the crew what’s up.”

 

***

 

Lindsey had spent the day in physical therapy, and didn’t look too happy about it. He was lying on his back on a small couch someone had dragged into the library, groaning theatrically.

“Could just chop ‘em off and save you the trouble,” Spike grumbled as he and Xander entered the room. Spike collapsed into a chair and pulled Xander down into his lap.

“Weren’t you two supposed to be working somewhere?” Angel asked, not even bothering to look up from his book.

Xander was annoyed at the implication that he and his vampire were incapable of doing research, even though the truth was neither of them really liked sticking their noses in dusty old books, and Xander, at least, was less skilled than average at the task. But still, Angel didn’t have to be so snotty about it, especially since Xander was the one wavering between dimensions. “We _were_ working,” he said, although the pronoun was pretty much a stretch, unless Xander-sitting counted as working. “Got the bathroom almost done. A few more things and Kyna can bring in the canopy bed or the stuffed bears or whatever it is she plans to furnish the room with.”

Now Kyna was giving him dirty looks and he felt a little bad about it. But not bad enough to apologize. Spike squeezed Xander’s waist. “My boy’s feeling a bit out of sorts. He had another spell.”

Everyone looked at Xander, even Lindsey. “What happened?” Giles asked. So Xander told them, all the while thinking that he was getting tired of playing this interdimensional game of telephone.

When Xander was finished, Giles nodded. “This is good news, I think.”

Angel said, “Just because Xander’s agreeable on both sides doesn’t mean Wes is any closer to getting home. How are we going to pull him back?”

“I’m working on that right now.”

Xander stood. “Great, you work on it. Spike, let’s go kill something, okay?”

Spike stayed put. “What if we’re in the middle of a fight and you—”

“I won’t. Come on. Please. I’m feeling itchy and I need to get my teeth into something.”

Spike waggled his eyebrows. “We don’t have to go anywhere for that, pet.”

“I wanna bite something living, Spike. Fight first, shag later.”

 

[Chapter Six](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/162086.html)

 


	6.  Aternate Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[alternate reality bites](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/alternate%20reality%20bites), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Alternate Reality Bites (6/8)**_  
**Title:** Aternate Reality Bites    
**Chapter:** 6 of 8   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** NC-17   
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:** Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.   
**A/N**: This fic is complete and I'll be posting it over the next 3 days. It takes place in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1), but can be read on its own right even if you haven't read the rest of the 'verse. For [](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/profile)[**spring_with_xan**](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/) .   
**Credits**: I'm grateful to [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/)  for the wonderful banner and to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for the fantastic beta work!

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Alternate%20Reality%20Bites&filter=all).

[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000cr390/)  
---  
  
**Six**

 

Wesley was staying at a cheap motel, the kind where people cooked meth in the bathrooms and hookers went wobbling across the parking lot and knife-wielding drunks chased their girlfriends. But he had a car, an elderly Ford Focus with mismatched doors and a cracked windshield. So he and Xander negotiated a deal—Wesley could sleep on Xander’s couch, and in turn he’d chauffeur Xander to and from work. The arrangement worked out pretty well. Wes had a laptop, too, and he spent his days on the internet, trying to find some way to get home. In the evening they talked, comparing the versions of their worlds. Wesley’s was a lot stranger than Xander’s, yet Xander found himself yearning for it. At least there he was someone, he had someone.

Xander had never had a roommate, and if he had, he probably wouldn’t have picked a crazy English guy. But he found himself enjoying the company, and even if Wesley’s stories were pretty wild, they were interesting to listen to.

“So if Spike was with you guys in LA and Xander was in Africa, how did they hook up?”

“I have no idea.” They were sitting on the couch, neither of them watching the basketball game that was on the TV. “I don’t even know how Spike survived the fight with Wolfram &amp; Hart. It was looking pretty grim.”

“Maybe someone stepped in to help. Witch Willow, maybe.” Xander tried to picture the Willow he’d known in high school doing magic, and couldn’t. She’d been a pretty practical girl.

“I doubt it. Angel had alienated them fairly thoroughly. They didn’t trust him.”

“Well, occasionally souled vampire, yeah, I can see why the trust would be difficult.”

“Yes, it would be,” Wesley said, and he looked so overcome with sorrow for a moment that Xander patted his shoulder. Wesley gave him a small, grateful smile.

“Um, your Xander. Was he always gay?”

“I know he dated girls. Cordelia, for instance.”

Xander nearly choked. “”Cordelia? Cordelia Chase?”

“Yes. In high school.”

“Cordelia Chase would have rather bought her clothes at Wal-Mart than go out with me.”

Wes shrugged. “You two apparently found some…chemistry. And then later, I understand Xander was engaged to a girl called Anya. She used to be a vengeance demon. But the wedding was called off.”

A vengeance demon? Somehow, that was more believable than Cordelia, so Xander didn’t question it. “Your Xander’s seen a lot more action than me. Maybe I’d get luckier in a world with demons in it.”

“Perhaps. I wasn’t all that fortunate in love myself.”

Xander remembered what Wes had told him about that girl and how she’d been possessed somehow by a god. Wes hadn’t said as much, but Xander had the fairly strong impression that Wes had had it bad for Fred. But that gave him a thought. “Have you tried looking for Fred here?”

Wesley frowned. “Yes. She was one of the first…when I’d realized what had happened to me. She’s a professor at the University of Texas in Tyler. She’s becoming quite well known in her field, I believe. She’s married and she has a young son.”

“Did you…did you ask if she can help you?”

“No. She went through so much in my world, and here…here she’s happy. I let her be.”

Xander nodded and for a while he watched the men in shorts run back and forth across the court, their shoes squeaking the whole time. And then something else occurred to him. “You came to see me because of that dream you had, or vision, or whatever.”

“Yes.”

“Why didn’t you look for Spike? You knew him a lot better than you knew me, right?”

“Xander, in this world, the man who would have been Spike was born in the 1850s. He’s been dead a very long time.”

For no reason, Xander’s stomach clenched. “Oh.” He picked at a small fray in the fabric of his jeans. “I thought maybe he was your ticket out of here instead of me.”

Wesley grew very still. Then he turned and grabbed Xander’s shoulders. “Of course! You’re a genius!”

“Now, there’s a sentence nobody’s ever said to me before. Unless they were being ironic. Or sarcastic. I’m a little fuzzy on the difference between the two.”

The other man ignored his babble. “A person cannot physically pass from one reality to another if his counterpart is alive in the other world. If he were to try, it would cause all sorts of temporal-spatial anomalies…possibly destroy one or both worlds.”

“Well, that’s bad.”

“And if his counterpart is _not_ alive, he could pass over, but then he’d be stuck. It’s a one-way journey.”

“Also bad.”

“But if the person were dead in both worlds…as I am…he might be able travel both directions. The fact that I lack a body in my original world keeps me from doing it by myself. But if the deceased person _did_ have a physical presence….”

“So, what? You want to try to catch a ride back home on a cadaver?”

“Not a cadaver. A vampire.”

Xander scratched at his neck as he took a few moments to mull this over. “Okay. So how do you lure a vampire to this world?”

Wesley grinned. “Perhaps with a man who has been described as a demon magnet.”

 

***

 

For once, Xander woke up in his own bed, in the arms of his own vampire. “You were calling my name, love.”

“I missed you. The other Xander’s never met you—he’s not even into guys—and he still misses you.”

“I expect that’s the bit of him that’s you, Xan.”

“Maybe.” Xander didn’t want to think about the whole duality thing. It made his head hurt. “But he’s really lonely.”

Spike clutched him closer. “Don’t like to think of a lonely Xander, even if he’s not really you.”

“Hmm.” Xander squirmed around so he was facing Spike, and he looked into that familiar, beloved face. He didn’t have to say anything. He could keep his mouth shut and Spike would never know, and life would go on just fine. Except Xander would be haunted for the rest of his days by the thought of stranded Wesley.

He reached up and traced his fingertips over Spike’s cheekbone, then over the scarred eyebrow. “Wesley had an idea,” Xander said very quietly.

Spike waited.

“He thinks maybe a vampire could fetch him somehow. But that doesn’t have to be you, does it? Angel could do it. He’s the one who got Wes all tied up with Wolfram &amp; Hart to begin with.”

Spike kissed Xander’s forehead.

Xander let Spike tell the story this time, while Xander sat in one of the library chairs, glaring at the wall. Angel, of course, volunteered to go, even though Kyna’s lips thinned and her eyes hardened. But after an hour or so of especially frenzied book-consultation, during which Xander had silently chanted, _Not Spike, not Spike, not Spike_, Giles had crowed in triumph and then shook his head.

“It has to be Spike,” Giles said.

“Of course,” said Spike. “Who wants an interdimensional pouf?”

Giles rolled his eyes. “It has to be Spike because he’s closely tied emotionally to Xander. And Xander’s connection with the other Xander will provide the means for Spike to travel.”

Xander exploded. “I don’t understand any of this bullshit! Give me something to build, something to bite, that’s fine. This alternate universe crap is stupid!”

Giles stood and walked over. He pulled a chair closer to Xander so that they were facing one another and he took off his glasses. “Xander, you and your counterpart form the two ends of a bridge that connect dimensions. Humans, if they tried to traverse that bridge, would be destroyed or they’d be caught on the other side. Most vampires, including Angel, would…well, get lost. They would never find their way to the opposite side, nor would they find their way back.” Xander glanced at Kyna, who was listening intently, grimly. “But Spike could travel safely, because you two are intimate.”

“So if I fucked Angel he could go instead?” Xander said angrily.

Spike growled and Angel made a face.

But Giles shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Yes, you two are certainly, erm, physically close. But I meant emotionally. Spike knows you, doesn’t he?”

Spike nodded gravely.

“Spike could cross the bridge and then lead Wesley back. And then the bridge could finally be destroyed, and you would stop having these visions.”

It all sounded so logical, so simple. Xander scowled and crossed his arms on his chest.

Angel approached them both. “What happens if Spike does drag Wes back? Wes is dead. Does he end up a ghost? Does he…I don’t know...ascend to heaven?”

“We can make him a body,” Lindsey said. He’d been sitting on the couch the whole time, massaging his legs. “The firm did that now and then. They did it for me. You end up in the same physical condition you were when you died, more or less, but you’ve got a meat jacket again. The magic’s not that hard.”

Xander looked down at his hands. They were calloused, and there was a scab on the back of his right hand from when Spike had decided to put a very cold hand down the back of Xander’s jeans while Xander was working, and the putty knife Xander had been using had slipped a little. Spike had licked and sucked at the tiny wound, his eyes shining the way a cat’s eyes shine in the dark, and Xander had let Spike throw him down on the floor and fuck him right then and there, with the handle of the putty knife digging into Xander’s back. “It’s not fair,” he almost whispered.

Spike had been standing nearby. He knelt beside Xander’s chair and clasped their hands together. “It never is, love.”

 

***

 

Xander gasped and watched as his sweat dripped down onto Spike’s straining body. Spike’s head was thrown back, the cords of his neck standing starkly, his face clenched in what appeared to be exquisite agony. “Harder,” Spike said. “Hard…oh, fuck, Xan…like that…Xan…Xan…Xan….” Chanting Xander’s name like a prayer or a spell.

Xander didn’t have the breath to say anything at all, at least anything more coherent than a wild cry that sounded more than a bit like a howl. His hips were pistoning and he felt like he was so deeply inside his lover that he might be swallowed whole. And that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Bite!” Spike said, his voice hoarse and broken.

Xander didn’t have to be told twice. He wouldn’t have been able to resist the temptation much longer anyway. As his lower body still moved rapidly, Xander unlocked his elbows and collapsed onto Spike’s chest. He grabbed Spike’s hair and then sank his teeth into ivory skin, just above Spike’s jutting collarbone.

Spike yelled. Xander felt the rush of room-temperature liquid against his own stomach, felt Spike clench around him. As the salty taste of his own sweat and Spike’s blood filled his mouth, Xander juddered and froze and climaxed.

They stayed stuck together, Xander’s soft cock still inside Spike, for a long time, until they were both almost asleep. Spike sucked lightly on Xander’s neck and ran his hands up and down Xander’s back, making Xander’s over-sensitized nerves twitch. “You’re bloody good at shagging,” Spike said when Xander finally withdrew and rolled off, to flop bonelessly at Spike’s side.

“Practice makes perfect.”

“Yeah?” Spike reached over to play with Xander’s nipple. “You’re not perfect yet. Perhaps we ought to practice some more.”

Xander tried to laugh and groan at the same time. “Just…give me five minutes, okay?”

“We have to be downstairs in fifteen, love, or they’ll all come marching up here.”

Xander thought about being interrupted by Giles when in the middle of…in the middle of Spike. He shuddered. “Okay. Three minutes, then.”

 

***

 

Magic made Xander itchy, and it smelled funny. He wanted to reach up and scratch his nose, but Spike was holding tightly to one hand, and Xander’s other hand was clutching what looked like a blob of melted blue glass, but which Giles had insisted was some kind of mystical talisman thing. The floor was hard underneath him, and he wondered how difficult it was going to be to remove the paint from it. He understood that enchantments often required special symbols and marks, but did they have to be made in the lobby, where he’d just recently spent days restoring the tile? He remembered when Willow had stuck Angel’s soul on permanently; at least this time, Xander and Spike hadn’t been required to take their clothes off.

Giles and Lindsey were sitting on the round seat, squinting together at a huge book that was opened across both their laps. That didn’t give Xander much comfort; it was like seeing a surgeon consulting an anatomy text just before they wheeled you into the OR. He really wished they had decided to wait until Willow was available, but Spike had been anxious to get the whole thing over with and Giles had been worried that, over time, Xander’s connection with the other world would either disappear or become permanent, and neither of those was a good thing.

Angel was standing awkwardly nearby, his face set in its usual brooding lines, but Xander knew that underneath the scowl was genuine concern for Spike. Plus, Angel had never been happy to be simply a bystander, but there wasn’t much he could do right now. Kyna was pacing. She liked to be in on the action, too, preferably bossing people around.

Xander turned his head to the side to look at his vampire. “Spike, if you get stuck there—”

“I won’t.”

“Yeah, but if you do—”

“Pet, I’ve made my way back from death, from ashes, from hell, from being a bloody ghost. And that was before I had you to come home to. I won’t get stuck.”

Xander felt slightly comforted. “Okay. But promise me: if the impossible happens—because Christ knows it has before—promise me you’ll find someone in that world. I don’t want you by yourself. You don’t do well alone.”

Spike sighed. “Xan, if the impossible happens, if I’m convinced that there’s absolutely no return, I’ll seduce the other Xander.”

Xander felt an odd combination of relief and jealousy. Could you be jealous of yourself? “He’s straight.”

“So were you, once.”

“No. I was bi and in denial. That Xander really isn’t into guys.”

“That’s because he’s never met me,” Spike said smugly. “You couldn’t resist me in this dimension or any other.”

Xander didn’t argue because he wasn’t sure Spike was wrong. Besides, just then Giles came over to loom beside them. “All right,” he said. “The bond should have cemented. Xander, you can place the talisman on the floor now.”

Xander did. His hand was all sweaty and he wiped his palm against his thigh.

Giles said, “The next bit is quite simple. I’m going to put you to sleep, Xander—”

“Not a phrase you want to say to someone who’s semi-canine, G-Man.”

Giles huffed impatiently. “Within a few minutes, the spell should set you into communication with the alternate reality. Spike, as soon as he’s there, you should feel sort of a tug. Don’t resist it; just relax and allow it to pull you along. You should very shortly find yourself with Xander.”

“That’s a few more shoulds than I’d like, Giles,” said Xander.

“Nothing is ever certain with magic. Or with anything else, for that matter. But I’m quite confident.”

That was going to have to be good enough. “Okay, then. Hit me.”

“You do remember how to get back, Spike?”

“I’m not an idiot, Watcher.”

Giles opened his mouth like he might disagree, then shut it. He nodded twice and walked back to Lindsey, who handed him a green plastic bowl. Giles brought the bowl back over with him. From it he removed what looked like a glass salt-shaker, then sprinkled liquid from the shaker onto Spike and Xander. It had a bitter, acidic smell. Next he dropped several pinches of a pleasant-scented herb on them.

“I’m beginning to feel like a side of beef,” Xander said. “Werewolf. It’s what’s for dinner.”

Giles glared at him. “Do be quiet!”

Then there was some chanting in various languages and some waving around of sticks and it was pretty boring, actually, and Xander felt his eyelid growing heavier and heavier and Oh! That was the point, wasn’t it? Sleep came slowly upon him, as if he were sinking gently into quicksand, and everything grew fuzzier, and the last thing he remembered was Spike squeezing his hand.

 

[Chapter Seven](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/162360.html)

 


	7.  Aternate Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[alternate reality bites](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/alternate%20reality%20bites), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Alternate Reality Bites (7/8)**_  
**Title:** Aternate Reality Bites    
**Chapter:** 7 of 8   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** NC-17   
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:** Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.   
**A/N**: This fic is complete and I'll be posting it over the next 3 days. It takes place in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1), but can be read on its own right even if you haven't read the rest of the 'verse. For [](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/profile)[**spring_with_xan**](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/) .   
**Credits**: I'm grateful to [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/)  for the wonderful banner and to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for the fantastic beta work!

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Alternate%20Reality%20Bites&filter=all).   


[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000cr390/)  
---  
  
**Seven**

 

The crash and clatter came from the aisle with the bulk nails and screws. It was louder than the usual noises that occurred when the children of inattentive parents decided to play, or when a customer unaccountably decided that the thing just out of reach needed to be in their hands right that second. Xander took off running, grateful that at least it wasn’t the lightbulb aisle, but already dreading having to re-sort the tiny little pieces of metal.

What he found was a man lying on the ground, looking more than a little dazed. Thousands of bolts were scattered around him, and maybe that’s why nobody in the small gathered crowd had tried to approach him. The guy looked kind of shady, Xander thought, with nuclear-colored hair and a long leather duster. Probably he was drunk or stoned. But his eyes sharpened when Xander cautiously approached him.

“Xander!” he said.

Xander glanced down at his name tag. “Yep, that’s my name. Are you okay? Do you want me to call 911?”

With some difficulty, the guy struggled to his knees and then to his feet. He took an unsteady step towards Xander, and Xander took a step away. But then the man froze. His mouth fell open and he held a hand against his own chest. “It’s beating,” he said.

“Yeah, well, that’s generally considered a good thing. Look, maybe you’d better sit down. I can bring you a chair—”

The man shook his head. “No. I…I didn’t expect to be alive.” He had an English accent.

“Well, you took a nasty fall, but it doesn’t look like you really hurt yourself.”

The man spun around and looked past the other end of the aisle, out through the exit doors. “I could go _outside_.”

“Sure you can. But you should rest a little first. We have paperwork, incident reports, that kind of thing. Besides, you’ll want this documented for later, when you sue us for ten million dollars.”

Most of the bystanders began to drift away, probably disappointed that there hadn’t been gore and mayhem. The man in black took a few deep breaths and squared his shoulders. “Don’t you know me, Xander?”

Great. More craziness. What was he, a lunatic magnet? Except when he looked at the man, really looked at him, there _was_ something familiar about him. But he couldn’t place him at all. “Sorry,” Xander said.

The man seemed to shrink a little. “Right, then. Well, you’ve heard of me, anyhow. Name’s Spike.”

Xander felt so dizzy he had to reach out to one of the building's support pillars to keep from falling. “Spike? You mean as in va—” He stopped and looked around at the few remaining gawkers and at Todd, that asshole who worked in the paint department and who was watching with his mouth hanging open. “Spike as in, um, the Spike who knows Wesley?”

“Yeah. Where is he?”

Xander glanced at his watch. “Probably on the way to pick me up. I’m supposed to clock out in ten minutes.” He had about a million questions to ask, but not in front of an audience. He was beginning to seriously doubt his own sanity—he didn’t intend to make that a spectator sport. “Let’s go talk, okay?”

Spike nodded.

Xander left Todd to clean up the mess and told his boss that there was an emergency and he had to leave a little early. His boss looked at Spike skeptically and said, “Okay.”

Spike seemed hesitant to step out into the bright sunshine, but once he was outside, he looked up at the blue sky in amazement. “Bloody _hell_,” he murmured.

They stood at the curb, waiting. After Spike finished admiring the sun, he took to staring at Xander instead. It made Xander really uncomfortable. “Are you…did you come from…where Wes is from?” Xander said.

“Yeah.”

“How?”

“Long story. I’ll explain later.”

“Are you really a vampire? With the fangs and all that?”

“Not here, but yeah, ordinarily.”

“Can you turn into a bat or a wolf?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Bloody Stoker. I can’t turn into anything but myself with sharper teeth. You’re the one who becomes a wolf.”

“Huh?”

“Watcher didn’t tell you that bit, did he? Well, I don’t expect he knows. It was after his time.”

“What bit?”

“You—well, not you. My Xander is a werewolf.” He said it proudly, the way a parent might brag about his child being an honor student.

“A _werewolf_?” And then he caught something else as well. “You said your Xander. Are the two of you, um, a couple? ‘Cause Wes dreamed of you kissing, but….” He felt his face grow red.

“Xander Harris is the love of my bloody unlife. And right now he’s in your noggin, listening, probably going all smug about me getting all nancy-boy in the middle of a car park.”

“He’s in my _head_?”

“Like I said. Long story.”

Xander was saved from more astonishing revelations as Wes’s Ford came clanking across the lot. But then Wes must have caught sight of Spike, because his mouth fell open and he almost ran them both over.

“Oi, Percy! ‘M alive here. Don’t fancy getting splatted by your car.”

Wes managed to stop the car without killing them. He pushed his door open with a squeal of metal and leapt out with the engine still running. “Spike!” He grabbed Spike by the shoulders and damned if he didn’t have tears in his eyes. “Is it really you?”

“In the flesh. The living, breathing flesh, as a matter of fact.”

“Good Lord! How did you get here?”

Spike sighed. “I think the tale will be easier with a few pints down, yeah?”

Xander ended up climbing in the back of the car with Spike, who stared at him the whole way home. Xander had rarely been under such close scrutiny, and knowing this man was his alter ego’s lover made him feel very odd, even as a tiny part of him almost thrummed with the urge to reach out and touch Spike.

It seemed like a very long drive home.

At long last, though, the three of them were seated around Xander’s table, which was kind of an event anyway because he’d never had two guests in his place at once. They each had a bottle of beer in front of them, although Xander was wishing he had something stronger, and he had the idea the other two were wishing the same.

Xander had never been attracted to men, at least not that he’d been aware of. But sitting under his bug-spotted fluorescent light, watching Spike pick at the label of his Killian’s Red, Xander realized that the man was beautiful. Vampires and werewolves aside, how could someone like that fall for someone like him?

Spike told them a story. It involved the Watchers’ Council, which Wesley had mentioned to Xander, and some people Xander had never heard of before. And of course it involved the other Xander too, and he was, as Spike had said, apparently in Xander’s head right now, listening in, or maybe he was a part of Xander; Xander was a little confused by the whole concept. Either way, it was pretty creepy.

Wesley seemed fairly shocked by some of what Spike had to say: “Rupert Giles and Lindsey McDonald?!” Other parts saddened him, like the news of Charles Gunn’s death, and his face tightened when Spike said they never heard from Illyria again after the battle. But he was clearly relieved to learn that Angel had survived, and he was even happier when Spike described how they eventually managed—with the other Xander’s help!—to destroy the law firm once and for all. And, finally, he was touched that his friends were trying to save him.

“Thank you,” Wes said very softly when Spike was finished speaking.

“Thank my boy. He’s the one who’s been dragging back and forth between dimensions.”

It took Xander a moment to realize that “my boy” meant him, or at least the other Xander. He’d never belonged to anyone before. He looked down at the table and swallowed hard, only managing a nod when Wesley repeated his thanks.

Spike stood and walked to the fridge. He came back with fresh bottles for all three of them. But it was very late by then and Xander was exhausted. “How are you guys getting back, anyway?” He was happy for Wes, and yet not really looking forward to being alone again.

Spike bit at his lip. “’T’s not very nice, actually.”

Xander and Wesley looked at him expectantly.

“See, the Watcher and his lawyer will have a nice new body all waiting for you on the other side, good as new. But a bloke can’t cross dimensions if he’s alive in both, or else the world ends. So—”

“So you have to kill me.”

Spike arched his eyebrows and nodded.

“Kill? No, wait!” Xander was willing to accept this shared lunacy to a point, but that did not include homicide. “You can’t kill him!”

“Why not, pet? I’ve offed thousands before, and with considerably less excuse.”

Oh, yeah. Vampire. Serial murderer. “But…but you can’t just—”

Wes put his hand on Xander’s arm. “It’s quite all right. He’s correct about my not being able to pass otherwise, and remember, I’ve already died once.”

“Pfft,” said Spike. “Amateur.”

“Isn’t there some other way?” asked Xander.

Spike reached up and almost touched the cheek under Xander’s missing eye, then let his hand drop. “There isn’t. ‘M sorry pet. But don’t worry, I’ve some mojo that will make the corpse disappear, so you won’t have the police coming after you. I fancy you’d be locked up pretty quickly if you tried to tell them this story.” He stood. “Let’s get this sorted, yeah? My Xan’s been asleep a long time now, and the others will be anxious to see you, Wes.”

“Now?” Xander squeaked.

“Now, pet.” Spike did touch him this time, briefly ruffling Xander’s still-bristly hair in a familiar fashion that filled Xander’s heart with longing.

Wes stood, too, very tall and straight. “Yes, let’s get this over with. Is there any special way you must do it?”

“I’d rather hoped I could drain you. It’d be lovely for me, and it’s not a hard way to go. But I expect that’s out of the question, seeing as I’m temporarily incapacitated.” Spike thought for a moment. “Don’t want to do anything too bloody—wouldn’t want Xander to have a mess to explain. How about a broken neck? I should be able to manage that even without vampire strength, and it’s nice and quick.”

“Yes, all right.”

Xander couldn’t believe they were having this discussion as matter-of-factly as a couple of guys deciding where to go for dinner. But Spike closed the few feet between him and Wes and they stood there a little awkwardly. Then Wes put up a hand. “Just a moment, please.”

Without even noticing he was doing it, Xander had managed to stand and back away until he was pressed against the wall, as far from the other two as possible. But Wes walked up to him and rested one hand on Xander’s shoulder. “Thank you, Xander.” He chuckled a little. “Xanders, I mean. But I’m specifically addressing the one from this world right now. You listened to my lunatic story when nobody else would, and I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help. And your friendship.”

“I’m…uh…you’re welcome. Good luck.” Wesley was his only friend, Xander realized, the first he’d had in a very long time. He looked over at Spike, who was waiting patiently. “Can I go, too? I mean…this world kinda sucks, at least for me. Maybe in yours….” His voice trailed away and he looked down at his shoes.

He looked up again when Spike gently pushed Wes aside. “I’m sorry. Can’t. Can’t have two of you in one universe.” He grinned. “Which is probably just as well, for the universe’s sake.”

Xander started to move away, but Spike caught him and held him firmly against the wall by his shoulders. “Listen to me, pet. I know you. In my world, we’ve been together for some time; we spent several years fighting against each other, but more years fighting side-by-side after that. I _know_ you. You don’t have much confidence in yourself. We can blame those bloody tossers who gave birth to you for that. But you’re brave and strong, and you’re a good man, Xander. The best I’ve known.”

“That’s the other Xander, not me,” Xander said bitterly.

“The other Xander is you. He’s had a few opportunities you didn’t, made some better choices now and then. He had friends at his side when you didn’t. But you’re the same person.”

“He’s a werewolf.”

“But he was a hero long before that. Saved the world once without a single superpower. Just by being true to his friend. Saved me when he didn’t even like me. He’s a brilliant carpenter as well. You’ve been willing to believe the rest of what we told you, so now believe this: you are an extraordinary man. Stop drinking and trust yourself. Allow yourself to become who you really are. You don’t need magic for that.”

Those blue eyes were looking at him so earnestly. Spike clearly believed every word he’d just said. Deep inside Xander’s head a tiny whisper encouraged him to believe. He could be someone better. Someone happy.

For the first time that Xander could remember, he felt hopeful.

Spike startled him by gathering him in a fierce embrace and loudly kissing his cheek. “That’s my boy,” Spike said.

A few moments later, Spike was standing with his elbow crooked around Wesley’s neck, mumbling something or other to himself. Wes had his eyes shut, but he appeared calm and ready.

Xander heard a loud and sickening crack, saw Wesley collapse in Spike’s grip like a puppet with its strings cut. Spike said something else that Xander couldn’t catch—it wasn’t in English—and then there was a crash like a clap of thunder.

And Spike and Wesley were just…gone.

Xander was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to hear anything but the ringing in his ears for a while. He walked on unsteady legs towards the spot where the two men had disappeared. There was no sign of them.

“Shit,” he said.

He needed a drink.

He went to the fridge and pulled it open. A thick white envelope lay on the top shelf. He removed it and saw that his name was written on it in curiously ornate, old-fashioned handwriting. “What the hell?” he said, as if mystery envelopes were the strangest thing that had happened to him that day. When he opened it he found a thick sheaf of green papers. Hundred dollar bills. A lot of them. They were held together by a rubber band, which also anchored a small piece of white paper. Xander set the money down on the counter, closed the fridge, and removed the bit of paper.

_Dear Xander,_

_I hope alternate universe dosh is good in your world. Use this for a new car or a new flat or maybe a nice, long holiday. Use it for whatever you want. I know money can’t buy happiness, but it’s a nice start, isn’t it?_

_S_

 

Xander stared at the money. There was probably enough there to renew his contractor’s license, buy some tools, maybe even get a decent used pickup truck.

He smiled.

And then he went to the fridge and took out the last few bottles of beer. He popped off the tops and poured the contents down the drain.

 

***

 

Before Xander could even ask, Spike was there, smoothing the hair from Xander’s face. “You made it back,” Xander said.

“Seems that way.”

“And Wes?”

“Off nattering with the rest of them.”

Xander looked around, then, and realized he was in his own bed. Spike must have carried him upstairs. “You think Wes’ll stay? I’ll have to build him a suite, too.”

“Rest first, love. You can pound nails and other things later.”

“You have a one-track mind.”

“Yeah, but it’s a good track, innit?” Spike smirked.

Xander sat up and wrapped his arms around Spike’s strong and comforting body. “God, I’m so lucky to have you.” Then he pulled away a little. “What was the deal with the money?”

Spike looked very pleased with himself. “Found that, did he? Nicked it from the old man. I wasn’t certain it would cross universes with me, though.”

“It was a nice thing to do.”

Spike smiled shyly for a moment. “Do you think he’ll listen to what I said? You’re such a stubborn git.”

“Yeah. I think he might.” He sighed. “Have they disconnected me from him yet?”

“Rupert said they’d do it tonight. Oh, and you’re to ring the Scoobies and tell them you’re all right.”

Xander yawned. “Okay. But right now I think I need a nap of the regular magic-free kind. And then maybe are you up for a run? Maybe even a hunt?”

“I’m always up for you, pet.”

Xander pulled Spike back into his arms and then down, so that they were scrunched comfortably together. Spike sighed contentedly and latched his soft lips onto Xander’s neck. Xander closed his eye and thought about whether they might go back to that beach tonight. He was imagining the feel of sand beneath his paws when he fell asleep.

[Epilogue](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/162754.html)

 


	8.  Aternate Reality Bites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>  Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.

  
  
  
**Entry tags:** |   
[alternate reality bites](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/alternate%20reality%20bites), [spike/xander](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/tag/spike/xander)  
  
---|---  
  
_**Alternate Reality Bites (8/8)**_  
**Title:** Aternate Reality Bites    
**Chapter:** 8 of 8   
**Pairing:** Spike/Xander   
**Rating:** NC-17   
**Disclaimer:** I'm not Joss   
**Summary:** Xander begins to have some disturbing dreams about a less successful life.   
**A/N**: This fic is complete and I'll be posting it over the next 3 days. It takes place in the [Biteverse](http://whichclothes.livejournal.com/154288.html#cutid1), but can be read on its own right even if you haven't read the rest of the 'verse. For [](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/profile)[**spring_with_xan**](http://community.livejournal.com/spring_with_xan/) .   
**Credits**: I'm grateful to [](http://sentine.livejournal.com/profile)[**sentine**](http://sentine.livejournal.com/)  for the wonderful banner and to [](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/profile)[**silk_labyrinth**](http://silk-labyrinth.livejournal.com/)  for the fantastic beta work!

Previous chapters [here](http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=whichclothes&keyword=Alternate%20Reality%20Bites&filter=all).

**Final chapter. Thank you for reading!  
**   


[ ](http://pics.livejournal.com/whichclothes/pic/000cr390/)  
---  
  
**Epilogue**

 

“It’s beautiful, Xander. You do wonderful work.”

Xander smiled at Wesley. “Thanks. I enjoy it. It’s rewarding, you know?”

Wes ran a hand over the desk Xander had built him. It was mahogany, with a few more exotic woods inlaid in a pattern around the edges because Xander had been in the mood to experiment with veneers. Wes used the library downstairs, of course, but Xander had thought he’d appreciate a private study space in his suite as well. “It feels like home,” Wes said.

“Good. That’s the idea. Tonight I’ll finish installing the bathroom fixtures. I got the new kind of toilet seat; it just sort of twists on and off without any tools. Which was probably more than you wanted to know, but hey, it’s exciting if you’re Home Improvement Guy.”

Wes’s mouth twitched into a small grin. “Thank you for sharing, Xander.”

“No problem. You ever want to talk plumbing trivia, I’m your guy. But I’m thinking that an impatient vampire’s gonna come bursting through your door any minute now to heckle me in British. I think I’ll go head him off.”

“You do that. Thank you, Xander.”

Xander unbuckled his tool belt and laid it on the floor. When he left the room, Wes was still standing there, smiling down at his new furniture.

Spike was, indeed, on his way down. His duster was swirling and his mouth was set in what he probably thought was a fierce frown, but what Xander thought more closely resembled a pout. Spike stomped to a halt in front of him. “Oi! You were meant to be upstairs hours ago.”

“Sorry. I was almost finished and I got carried away.”

“Carried away, huh?” With vampire-quick speed, Spike swept Xander into his arms and flipped him over his shoulder. He swatted Xander’s ass very firmly and carried him upstairs. Xander decided not to fight the indignity. Besides, his position left Spike’s own ass within reach, although it was, sadly, obscured by the coat. Xander patted it anyway.

As they went up, they passed Lindsey on his way down. He wasn’t exactly flying down the stairs, but he was walking, brace-free and using only one hand on the banister for balance. He snorted in laughter at Xander and muttered, “Should’ve had Rupe carry me around like that.”

In their room, Spike dumped him on the bed and quickly and efficiently stripped off all Xander’s clothing and then his own. “Let’s see if we can make the pouf complain about the noise again,” he said.

Xander reached up towards his vampire. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”

 

***

 

Xander dreamed. It was probably just an ordinary dream, because the Council had long ago cut him off from the other world. But still, it was very vivid, very lucid.

In the dream, Xander set a two-by-four in place and then held it steady while Chelsea nailed it down. When she was done, she turned and grinned at him. It was a breezy day and her short curls ruffled a little around her face. “If we keep working this fast we’re gonna make the rest of the crew look bad,” she said.

“If we keep working this fast maybe we can knock off work early and we’ll have time to shower before dinner.”

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Was that a proposition, Xander Harris?”

He smiled wolfishly at her. “Do you want it to be, Chelsea Perez?”

She smiled, which made her warm brown eyes crinkle at the corners. “Tell you what. We finish up here, we shower—separately, in our own homes—and then I’ll pick you up and we can go to that seafood place over on 9th Street. I was on the crew that built that building, you know.”

“Well then, I guess I can feel assured the ceiling won’t fall on us while we eat.” He reached over for the next piece of wood and put it in place. “I could pick you up instead.”

“In that POS Chevy? No way. I’ve got a shiny new Tacoma. Wanna show it off a little.”

“Yeah, okay. I could stand to be chauffeured, I guess.”

When they finished, less than an hour later, they cleaned up the site together. Chelsea grabbed his shoulders and looked up at him—not far; she was almost as tall as he was—and gave him a little peck on the cheek. “See ya at six, Xan.”

He practically skipped to his truck. It was kind of a POS, but it ran and he owned it outright, and if he got that promotion Mr. Martin had been talking about, soon he’d be able to afford something flashier himself. He set his toolbox into the truck's bed and then climbed into the cab. Before he backed out of the lot, he caught a glimpse of himself in the rearview mirror. The patch was there, slightly sweaty and dusty at the moment. And his face around the patch was still kind of…dented. Lately he’d been thinking that even when he could afford it, maybe he wouldn’t get it fixed. Chelsea said she thought it made his face interesting, intriguing. Like he was a guy with interesting stories to tell. Maybe she was just being nice. But for the first time he could remember, when Xander looked in the mirror, he liked the man he saw looking back at him.

 

_\---fin---_

 


End file.
